From A to Z
by nickeldime17
Summary: Max and Alec, a series of oneshots with alphabetic prompts.
1. ABCD

Title: From A to Z

General Rating: T

Specific Ratings: A-K+, B-T, C-M, D-T

Pairing: M/A

General Disclaimer: Dark Angel does not belong to me.

Specific Disclaimer: 'Annie Get Your Gun' song doesn't belong to me, I was inspired by an MA You Tube video. Also, the line from Supernatural totally doesn't belong to me, I just thought Alec would like pie as much as Dean.

Author's Note: I'm working on my other fics, I just get these urges to write one-shots and I grouped them together with alphabetical prompts. Most are AU, some more so than others, but I hope you enjoy them all. Please read and review. I love me some reviews.

_Max and Alec: From A to Z_

**Anything**

"Mission accomplished." Alec plopped down in the chair across from Max's desk. "We got needles, drugs, bandages…whatever Doc's little heart desired."

"And it only took you four hours." She was unimpressed.

"We had to consecutively hit nine different hospitals, in ten different sectors, avoiding the law, hostile mobs, and hot nurses, on a Friday, when everyone's particularly stupid." He flashed a grin, "Like you could've done better."

"Oh, I could've."

"Uh-huh."

Max bristled, "Anything you can do, I can do better."

"Please."

"You know its true Alec. I can do anything better than you."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

"_Yes_, I can."

"Fine. Prove it." He leaned back in the chair, "Let's start now. I can hit a target dead center, with one bullet. How about you?"

"You know I don't use guns. That's not a valid issue."

"Of course it's valid, you said _anything_," he argued.

"Not guns."

"Then I guess I win this round, thanks for playing. We can give it another go tomorrow." And he was gone before Max could yell at him.

On Saturday he offered, "I can live on bread and cheese."

Her eyebrow rose at the randomness. "And only on that?"

"Yep."

"So can a rat."

"Hey!" They turned to stare at the offended party. It was Mouse, who had an abundance of rat DNA and very little imagination.

"Sorry."

On Sunday, he announced, "I can get that shipment of food for $650."

"I can get it cheaper," Max shot back, "$575."

"$500."

"$450."

"No, you can't," he protested

"Yes, I can."

"Fine, I'll leave it to you." Alec sauntered away, whistling as Max tried to figure out what had just happened.

"Damn it, Alec!" she shouted after him.

On Monday, after a particularly heinous day, they met at the bar someone had decided was essential to TC's residents and he challenged, "I can drink my liquor faster than a flicker."

"What the hell's a flicker?" she asked, gesturing for a beer.

"Really fast," he grinned, downing his scotch.

"Well, I can drink it quicker. And get even sicker."

"We can't get sick, or drunk," he pointed out, "And I don't think 'sicker' is proper word."

"If we could, I'd definitely get more sick." She downed her mug and decided that was the end of that.

On Tuesday, he declared, "I can open any safe."

"Without getting caught?" Max asked, smirking.

"Sure."

"That's what I thought you'd say. You crook."

"Like you haven't done it," he contended

"Stealing is wrong."

"Sure, 'cause that's what you were saying last week when we lifted that painting from old man Smith's gallery."

"Shut up."

On Wednesday, she took the initiative, "Anything you wear, I can wear better. In what you wear, I'd look better than you." She was trying to convince herself that he didn't look absolutely mouth-watering in the leather jacket, because he was Alec, and eww.

"In my coat?"

"In your shirt."

He grinned, "In my boxers?"

"Yes."

Alec started stripping immediately, offering her his clothes. "Well, go on."

Refusing to back down, and ignoring naked Alec and the denizens of TC roaming through Command, she grabbed the offered clothing and ran to her office. Five minutes later she trooped back out, looking small in his oversized clothed. "Well?"

He gave a lop-sided smile, "Point to you."

On Thursday, he shared, "I can knit a sweater." At her look, he elaborated, "I did bodyguard duty for a couple months for the President's mother. Sweet little lady, but she insisted that if I was going to be around, I would learn to do something useful with myself other than hovering."

Max smiled at the picture he presented, "Well, I can fill it better." Although his lithe form had been broadening with the manual labor starting a small city required, and he looked completely scrumptious in the green sweater that had come in the last shipment, and what was she thinking?

On Friday it had been a week since they started the little contest and he asked, "Can you bake a pie?"

She thought for a minute about lying, "No."

He sighed, "Neither can I."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"I wanted some pie. Hey," he perked up, grabbing her hand and hauling her down the road, "Let's stop at Gem's, she always has pie."

"What's with the pie?"

Another smile was shot back at her, "I love me some pie. Besides, I bet I can eat more than you."

"No, you can't!" And she sped up, trying to beat him to Gem's little bakery.

On Saturday, they had a day off from the joys of running a nation and were relaxing on top of their apartment building. The roof of which was Max's new High Place. "So, who won?" Alec asked, sitting up to look at her.

She sat up as well, angling her body to face him and considered him. She finally leaned forward, catching his lips with her own. When she pulled back, he was looking dazed and it took him several moments to find his voice. "I did."

He blinked, "How do you figure?" He sounded a little breathless and she smiled.

"Obviously I kiss better than you."

Another blink and his hazel eyes sharpened. "Like hell."

And then _he_ was kissing _her_ and she felt all those muscles she hadn't been dreaming about pressed against her and she felt her body going pliant, molding into his, and then she remembered that he had ten years of training on her and could probably hold his breath longer. The sneak.

When he finally released her lips, she was panting, trying to follow them even as she tried to get her vocal cords working and catch her breath. Her fingers clutched his jacket and she gaped when he grinned cockily at her.

"Oh, I totally won!"

Even if her ability to articulate was gone, her hands worked just fine, and she smacked him upside the head. "Ass," she murmured.

"Always have to get the last word, don'tcha Maxie?" he inquired softly, rubbing his head even as he lowered it back down to hers.

**Brick**

He was feeling a little offended, especially when she went from an incredulous stare to openly laughing at his offer. Max never laughed. "What?" he demanded.

"Oh my God, you're serious?" At least she had stopped laughing.

"Of course I'm serious."

"What makes you think I'd want you as my mate?" she challenged, voice tinged with her outraged amusement.

Alec sighed, putting on his most charming grin. "C'mon, Maxie, everyone knows you want my ass." She scoffed and turned to go. "Wait." He let the smile drop as she turned to look at him again, expression closed. "Look, you're an 09er, but you've declared yourself leader of our little Freak Nation, so you have to play in the Manticore world."

"What that's supposed to mean?" Her tone was hard, but he could see the confusion in her eyes.

"It means that you're an unmated female trying to be alpha. X-5 females don't do that, Max. You want to be in a position of power, want to pull rank, you need someone at your back."

"You have my back," Max responded immediately, flushing.

He felt genuine smile flash across his face at the revelation, "I know that, and I'm glad you recognize that, but I have no formal claim. I have no right to challenge those who try to take your position…who try to take you."

"Me?"

"Those heat suppressors only work for a year before you need a booster," her eyes were wide now, "We don't have the facilities to make those drugs right now. When you go into heat, you'll be vulnerable without a pre-chosen mate."

"I'll fight it," she whispered.

He could hear the tinge of desperation and felt himself starting to get angry at her naiveté. "Think Max," he said harshly, grabbing her arms to shake her, "You think you're gonna hide out in the middle of Terminal City, spraying pheromones everywhere, and fight against your instincts when there are a hundred transgenic males pounding on your door?!"

She had grasped his forearms to stop the shaking. She looked up at him, just realizing how serious he was being about this, how upset he was. Max wasn't sure when the conversation had gone from humorous to crucial. "What about Logan?"

Alec's green eyes went blank, and Max wanted to take the question back. "Logan's an Ordinary, Max. He has no business in X-5 politics and power plays, no matter how much you try to include him. He can't protect you. Hell," and anger seeped back into his voice, "he can't even touch you!"

She wanted to slap him. "This conversation is over."

"Fine." He released her from his hold. "But you need to make a decision soon and my offer still stands."

"Alec…"

Great, apparently he hadn't done such a good job of hiding his hurt. "I've gotta finalize plans for the supply run tomorrow." He gestured toward the door to her office, "See ya around, Maxie."

"Alec."

He turned at the door, watching her try to find something to say. "Max…just think about it okay. You know me. You trust me," he quirked her his smirk, "to an extent. Or would you rather it be a stranger? Someone like Rand or Brick?"

Max's thoughts raced. It had always been a stranger. Some guy she hooked up with in a bar or on the road. A night of heat-fueled sex and it was all over but the crying. Here, in this place, surrounded by her people, her heat would lead her to be mated to a male for life. Would she really want it to be a stranger? Someone she knew in passing…

Rand worked in the reconstruction division, helping to make TC habitable. He was funny, cute, and smart, but she wasn't attracted to him. Slice ran TC's entertainment center. He was sweet, sunny, and knew how to make a girl laugh, but she couldn't imagine him in her bed. Brick was second to Mole in security, he was a combat model; tall, dark, handsome, full of muscles…He'd indicated more than once that he wanted her. But she also knew he wanted to be leader of TC, would likely treat her as the submissive in the relationship.

She needed a partnership, an equal. "No."

"Max?"

"No, not a stranger." She took a deep breath and met his gaze. Those stupidly long lashes of his were blinking with incomprehension. "How do we do this?"

Alec thought his heart might leap out of his chest. She was looking at him, those big brown eyes determined, and he felt himself go a little weak. She was actually agreeing to this, to be his mate. He could do this. He could handle this. "I'll come over tonight," he said, exuding a confidence he didn't feel at the moment.

"Okay."

"Okay. Later then." And he was out the door, hoping his legs didn't give out until he reached his own dilapidated office.

**Cold**

"This is stupid," Max stated, rubbing her hands together. Her brother looked up at her and shrugged, dragging their third party toward the fire in the small two room cabin. "Why'd we get stuck with that idiot anyway?"

"He saved your life," Ben countered, a little offended. His twin lay unconscious, unable to defend himself against Max's verbal onslaught.

The mission had been simple; infiltrate a small Alaskan genetics company and see if they could be of use to Manticore. 494 was to be a new computer tech, as he had the highest scores in hacking and comp skills on any base, 452 was to pose as a geneticist they had just hired, while 493 was surveillance and intelligence.

It had been going well until one of the many beefy security guards had taken a liking to Max and not accepting the very concise 'No way in hell' she given, had tried to press his luck. She'd practically handed him his head on a silver platter, breaking her cover, and 494 had been forced to break his own to pull her out of trouble.

They were quick, and smart. X-5's always were, and they'd led their pursuers on a merry chase while heading to the small shack where Ben was stationed. 494 had fallen through the ice while shooting at their last tail, preventing the enemy from getting a shot off at 452, but even his high body heat and stamina hadn't saved him from the effects of the cold water.

Max had dragged him all the way to where 493 waited, letting Ben handle his twin while she warmed her hands by the fire. "Is he waking up?"

"Maxie…" Ben trailed off, checking 494's pulse rate. The other man was shivering, breath short and uneven. "He's turning blue."

"What?" Max was by her brother's side immediately. "Get me a blanket," she ordered and Ben headed for the tiny bedroom he'd been using. Max got to work on 494's clothes, removing the wet garments and fought the urge to rub the exposed skin, unwilling to cause any further tissue damage.

"Here." Snatching the blanket, she cocooned the other soldier. "It's not working, we need more." She wasn't that fond of the guy's cocky attitude, as unlike Ben's sweet demeanor as possible, but she didn't want to lose a fellow X-5, even if he wasn't a unit mate. "Go in the other room."

"What?"

She pulled her outer things off and started on her second layer of clothes. Once she was down to her thermal long johns, she realized Ben still hadn't left. "Ben!" she said, "Go in the other room!"

"Why are you taking your clothes off?"

She felt a blush rise, never able to keep up the Manticore mask with her favorite sibling, "Body heat."

His eyes widened when he realized what she was saying, "Maxie, no!"

"Did you want to do it?" she asked stridently. Ben shuddered at the thought of being pressed naked against the other man, even though, and maybe especially because, they were clones. "I didn't think so." He set his mouth in a grim line and retired to his bedroom.

Max had never been naked with a man before. She knew it was important in the outside world, to people who weren't Manticore. Knew what nakedness often led to in the real world. On the base females were sequestered during their heat cycles; showers, while coed, were only taken with your own unit and everyone kept their distance; on a mission, even though she had been taught the fine art of seduction, she was normally able to pull off an assignment without it going too far.

So this was new; her warm body against his cold one, her soft curves against his hard muscles, and her flesh against his flesh. Max wrapped herself around him tightly, willing him to live. After losing Eva on a mission two years ago, she and her unit had been scrupulous about losing no one else, leaving no man behind, even if they were smart aleck assassins who refused to listen to anyone but themselves.

494 thought he might be dead. That he might be in what the guards called 'heaven' because he was warm and he felt incredibly safe. And that smell…he took a deep breath, feeling the tickle of hair brush against his nose. _What?_ Opening his eyes took effort, and he found himself staring at a wooden ceiling.

The last thing he remembered was coldness seeping into his bones and the look on 452's face when the bullet went whizzing by her. He shifted and heard a little groan. Surprised, he tilted his head downward to see the source of warmth and scent and hair. 452 was tangled around him. Naked, he realized.

He grinned, perfectly content to take advantage of the situation. 452 was gorgeous, even by Manticore standards, and he had none of the brotherly feelings toward her that his twin had displayed.

Hands stroked, and he maneuvered her beneath him, erection straining as it brushed against her. His lips caressed soft skin, and felt her arch up against him, moaning in her sleep. 494 sent a quick thank you to Lola in Kezmekistan for teaching him all the ways a woman could be aroused, and focused on making 452 whimper again.

"What?" Her voice was soft as her big brown eyes fluttered open. "What are you…Oh, oh, please…"

Her lips were chapped, but they clung to his, and he couldn't help but enjoy the sensation. "Open just a little bit more, 452," he ordered gently, nudging at her legs.

"We…You can't," she protested, even as she followed his direction, allowing him to sink down between her warm thighs and surge up into her heat. "Oh! Blue Lady!"

The exclamation was odd, but even odder was the fact that she was a virgin. Apparently 452 hadn't taken advantage of mission downtimes for fun. And even more odd than that was that the fact left him feeling very satisfied.

"I saved your ass, 452." He smirked lazily as she looked up at him, eyes a little dazed at the feel of him moving in her. "In some cultures, that would mean you belong to me." Her eyes flashed and he chuckled, moving a little faster, and her retort was cut off with a gasp.

A creak of a door had 494's head up, searching for the threat, and he met the eyes of 493. Wide hazel stared back, taking in the scene with alarm. 494 let out a low growl of warning, 452 was his, but it was 452 herself that caused his twin to retreat back into the other room. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him back down to continue his assault on her lips and body.

Later, she pushed his collapsed form off of her and looked down into his face that was so much like Ben's and yet completely different. "So, I saved you from dying of hypothermia." She drew a finger down his torso and straddled his rapidly responsive lower half. "Does that mean you're mine now?"

"Baby," 494 replied, "Let's call it even."

"Sounds fair." She ground down, eliciting a groan, and Max smiled. "And don't call me 'baby'."

**Daughter**

"494."

Alec forced himself not to snap to attention. "Deck," he drawled, hoping he sounded casual as he met the gaze of the Colonel with insolence, "its Alec."

"So I've heard." The older man studied the transgenic, amused at his obvious attempt at nonchalance. 493's twin was not what he had expected. "Max named you?"

"She insisted upon it."

"It seems to have stuck."

494 shrugged, "I like it better than Dick."

Deck chuckled, ignoring the surprise that 494 quickly masked, "Her second choice I assume."

"You'd assume correctly."

"I just wanted to thank you for the rescue, son."

"I'm not your son," the young man replied immediately, voice harsh.

"No," Deck agreed, "But Max is the closest thing I have to a daughter."

Green eyes blinked, "Max hates you."

"Something I regret, but children don't always agree with their parents." 494 didn't respond, just watched him warily. "She has some of my late wife's DNA."

That got a reaction, eyes widening, flashing with distaste. "You sick bastard."

"So I've been told," he said amicably. "I'm going overseas to aide in the search for Dr. Sandeman."

"Are you expecting gratitude?"

"No," Deck said sharply, "I'm expecting you to look after my daughter."

494 finally moved from his lounging seat, standing up to get in the Colonel's face. "I always have Maxie's back," he hissed, eyes now narrow, "I don't need orders."

"I thought not," Donald smiled, "Young men rarely need orders to protect the girl they love."

The statement had 494 reeling away, expression cornered. "Are you sure that snake venom didn't fry your brain, Deck?"

His smile grew, "Cale's an idiot, 494. I'm asking you to keep her safe from him as well as the outside world."

"She won't welcome my interference with Logan."

"Then you'd best be subtle. I heard you were very good at such things back at Manticore, a high success rate on solo missions…"

"This isn't an assassination."

"No," he agreed, "but you'll still be on your own." Lydecker scrutinized the young X-5 and decided he liked what he saw. Even more so now, then when the transgenic had hauled him out of the cell the Familiars had held him captive in for months. "I'm trusting you with my little girl, son, can you handle the responsibility?"

Spine and shoulders straightened and Alec met the Colonel's gaze openly. "Sir, yes, sir."

**TBC…**


	2. EFG

Specific Ratings: E-T, F-K, G-M

Author's Note: I'll be updating more often, I'm kind of on a roll. I have to go in a new direction for I though, the one I have now is heavy MB before MA. Anyhoo, hope you enjoy the new part!

**Enough **

It had just made sense. They had constantly been spending the nights at one apartment or the other; planning supply runs, heists, which building to renovate, how to keep order between the different series, who should be in charge of what… When the population of Terminal City got too large for the habitable apartments Max had simply packed up her meager belongings and moved into Alec's larger, more furnished home.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen and living room; perfect for two friends who ran a small nation. It quickly became established through loud arguments and a few knock-down, drag-out fights, that each had a few quirks that the other wasn't pleased with and they would have to accept those idiosyncrasies and move on.

So Max never complained about the scotch filled cabinet and the constant background noise of the television. And Alec never commented on the girly cosmetics and clothes left lying in the bathroom or her annoying habit of prowling around in the middle of the night.

It was also an unspoken agreement never to discuss their love lives. Alec didn't bring his conquests back to the apartment, and if Max was rude to the other women in his life, he chalked it up to her being a bitch. Max never brought Logan into TC after he left, and if Alec huffed and tried to distract her when she went to leave for Sandeman's house, she simply thought he was being a jerk.

So when she came home one night, flush from very carefully conducted sexual acts, to find him staring into a glass with two fingers of aged scotch sloshing around the bottom, she thought nothing of it.

"How was your night?" she asked, pulling her leather bike gloves from her hand with her teeth. "Alec?" she inquired when he didn't answer. Max looked over at him to find him watching her, green eyes unblinking. She rubbed her hands together, feeling a little nervous. "What?" she said defensively.

He was in front of her in an instant, and she had no time to react before he was gripping her wrists. He held one hand up to study, expression unreadable. Her fingers curled toward her palm, aware that just an hour ago it had been covered in a latex glove, gliding over Logan's body.

She had washed away the scent of semen and latex residue, coated her hands in strawberry lotion before concealing them in her leather gloves, but she thought he still might be able to smell what she had been doing. The dark look that slipped in his eyes suggested he could.

Max lifted her head, defiant. He had sex every week with women he barely knew. What right did he have to judge how she spent the time she had with the man she loved.

His hand slid from her wrist until they were palm to palm and he locked their fingers together tightly, bringing them to waist level while he raised her other hand. The right hand, the hand that had been holding white-knuckled to the sheets to prevent her from losing her precarious position on the bed and accidentally killing her boyfriend. The hand that was free of taint.

Soft lips brushed across the sensitive skin of her palm and Max gasped. He watched her closely as he clasped this hand too, their fingers twining loosely, easily, and then he leaned in and her eyes fluttered shut.

The corner of his lips touched hers and his cheek rubbed against hers and Max thought she might stop breathing it felt so wonderfully intimate. His warm breath breezed across her ear, "Is it enough?"

She pulled back and he pulled back, and she looked at him confused. "Is what enough?"

He squeezed her left hand, and let it go, reaching into her jacket pocket to pull out another latex glove. "This."

Licking dry lips, she met his intense gaze. "It has to be."

He nodded, and suddenly the intensity was gone, and he was back to being her cocky Smart Alec. "Let's see what's on the boob tube tonight." He moved away, back to the beat-up couch and his bottle of scotch. She tried not to think about how her right hand clung to his as he moved out of reach. They had set up ground rules for a reason, and this night would never be mentioned again.

Max snatched the remote away and turned the screen off. "We have to set up guard rotation tonight, fool, no time for the boob tube."

"Aww, Maxie…"

And everything was back to normal in the tiny two person apartment.

**Frosting **

Original Cindy strolled into Jam Pony at the end of the business day to find Alec perched on the dispatch desk, his expression flickered between miserable and 'come hither' depending on who was looking at him at the time. "Alec, honey, what are you doing?"

The other messengers were getting ready to leave; making plans to meet at Crash, shouting jokes over the tops of the lockers, betting on whether the boss would fire Skye for missing three days of work, and exchanging herbal serenity. "Normal left me in charge while he oversees Sketchy in the men's room."

"Fool plugged it up again?"

"Yep. Normal's making sure he doesn't make a break for it. Got your signature sheet?"

She handed it over and he pulled of the used sheet and placed it in a pile with the others for the day, hanging the clipboard with the blank sheets on a nail on the wall. The answering machine was already blinking with messages for tomorrow. "What's with the kicked puppy look?" she inquired, hopping up to sit beside him.

"I want cake," he stated.

"What?" 'Cuz that would've been the most random thing she'd heard all day if that hobo hadn't grabbed her bike handles and told her the sky was falling.

"Angel food cake," he said, eyes focused on Libby. The willowy blonde was changing her shirt, uncaring about the still milling employees. "Uncomplicated, a little bland, but with Cool Whip frosting. Airy." His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and Libby gave a little arch as she adjusted her hemline, throwing the desk, and therefore Alec, a flirting glance out of the corner of her eye.

"Uh-huh."

"Or maybe a confetti cake."

"And who would that be?"

"Megan." He tilted his head to the side, indicating the bouncy brunette that was laughing at something Remy was saying. "Sweet, light, but sometimes you get a burst of a colored sprinkle. Like, red would be when she gets angry and blue when she's overemotional, and green when she's being all maternal…"

Damn if that boy didn't know people. "Frosting?"

"Pink, definitely."

"Rhonda?"

Alec gave the honey blonde Amazon a considering look. "Pound cake."

"Sounds about right," OC agreed, giving the other woman a smile. She made OC want to climb her. "Chrissy?"

"Coffee cake."

"Song?"

"Ice cream cake."

"Neely?"

"Carrot."

"Sara?"

"Sara's not a cake, she's an apple pie, try again."

"Aerin?"

"Marble, no question."

"Lee?"

"Lemon."

"Yvette?"

"Spice."

"All right, how about OC?"

"You?" Alec studied her, grinning. "You're Devil's Food. Rich, chocolate, decadent, completely forbidden, and bad for me. 'Cause, you know, you're a lesbian and I'm pretty sure, genetically superior DNA or not, you could kick my ass."

Cindy had to laugh, "Damn straight, boo. What about my frosting?"

"Homemade chocolate icing."

"Mmm, that's the best kind."

"Yeah."

"What about Max?"

"Max," Alec repeated, voice going a little dark, "Max is the lady standing behind the selection counter telling me I can look but can't touch. Max is a frickin' sixteen layer wedding cake made up of sixteen different flavors and covered in fondant and sugar roses so that no one can see where someone snuck a bite underneath the perfect frost job."

OC read the bitterness for what it was; disappointment mixed with longing. Her boo had the baby boy all mixed up in himself so that he wasn't sure what he should want or what was okay for him to want. So Alec was standing at the cake counter and not sampling anything because he wanted to take the cake lady home and instead, she was berating him for taking so long to pick one and sticking with it.

"Alec-"

"Can you believe Normal sent me all the way to Sector Eight fifteen minutes before closing? The man's a sadist."

Speak of the real Devil's Food and there she was, striding down the ramp like she owned the place and handing Alec her clipboard with a little smile. OC couldn't help but notice that his expression had gone from abject misery to a grinning brightness the instant she looked at him. Poor boy. "Well, that sadist has been stuck in the little boy's room with Sketchy for…" she trailed off, looking at Alec.

"Almost an hour."

Max shuddered, "Well, then, I guess I'll call it even. Hey, I picked this up," she was reaching in her backpack, "Thought you might be interested." And she handed the other X-5 a flyer.

OC leaned over to read. It was just a small thing, advertising a pool tournament in Six, with a grand prize of $1,000. "Thanks, Maxie," Alec said, his voice a little husky and his hazel eyes were soft.

"Whatever, just made me think of you. I'm heading over to Joshua's, he learned how to make pizza. You up for it?"

"Yeah, totally."

"OC?"

"I've got a date tonight with a pound cake." She and Alec both grinned at the look of confusion on Max's face.

"Okay." She took a step backward. "I'm just gonna put my bag away." And she stalked over to the lockers.

"Never mind about wedding cakes," Alec said, clutching the piece of paper, "Max is a lava cake."

"That the thing with the gooey center?" Alec nodded and they continued to watch the dark-haired transgenic. "That's a good choice."

"Yeah," he slid of the counter as they caught sight of Normal and Sketchy exiting the bathroom in the back. "It's my favorite."

**Girl**

"Simon!" A hand clamped down on his shoulder and 494 had to restrain himself from going into a counter attack. "You up for some fun tonight?"

He turned, smiling at the other young man. "What did you have in mind?"

Blue eyes lit up at the response and 494 suspected that Rob had expected a negative answer. Simon Lehane was tight-laced, conservative, and a general stick-in-the-mud, but 494 was not, and he usually waited to give in to Rob's wheedling attempts until the man was almost about to give up.

"It's a surprise, we'll slip out during the after dinner cigars. Rach did invite you, right?" 494 nodded in affirmation. "Great! I'll catch you after lessons." He was gone, leaving 494 outside the music room until a glowing Rachel Berrisford pulled him to sit beside her on the piano bench.

494's observation of Robert Berrisford had been expedited by his children's willingness to have Simon Lehane integrated into their daily lives. Rachel; beautiful, young Rachel, innocently invited him to every family dinner, formal parties, and informal gatherings with a smile and bright blue eyes. Robert, Jr.; brilliant, charismatic Rob, dragged him everywhere after dark, despite his feigned reluctance, with a smirk and a devilish look in his own blue eyes. The super soldier's handler was pleased and had informed 494 for cultivate both the daughter's flirtation and the son's camaraderie.

And so 494 found himself standing with Rob at midnight in a Sector Mr. Berrisford, Sr. had forbidden his offspring to enter without an escort, staring at what could only be called a den of iniquity. "The Blowfish Tavern?" he inquired drily.

"Just give it a chance," Rob cajoled, "The girls are hot, and, for just a little extra, they'll bring you into a back room." Reading the dubious look he gave the X5 a push. "Slumming it is in right now, man. You'll see, a lot of our crowd will be here." 494 found it amusing that since Rob considered him a friend, he was automatically brought to Rob's social standing. "C'mon Simon!"

"Fine," he relented, playing the uptight piano teacher, "But I'll probably leave within the half hour."

Rob rolled his eyes. "Spoil sport," he muttered.

He followed his target's son in and looked around at the neon lights, dark corners, scantily clad women, and wished he wasn't on an assignment that had him posing as a tight-ass. Because, honestly, if there was one thing 494 knew how to do well, besides assassinations, it was how to have fun.

"Who's that?" The question slipped out as soon as he caught sight of her; all long limbs and dark hair moving sinuously to the beat of the music that pumped through the air.

"Man, you sure know how to pick 'em."

"Why?" He didn't look away and his gaze caught hers for a moment.

"That's Angel, probably the hottest girl in the place, and she's off limits."

"Why?" 494 demanded. She was definitely looking right at him.

"See the guy she's dancing for?" 494's eyes slid to the side and nodded curtly. The other man was older, thin, slightly scruffy, and appeared to be drooling. 494 could totally take him. "That's Logan Cale, future CEO of Cale Industries. His family owns half of Seattle and he's their golden boy. He's in here every night just to keep an eye on what's his. Damn shame, too, a fine looking woman like that…"

"Huh." She was, without a doubt, looking at him.

"Robby!" The exclamation was shrill. "I missed you!" The little doing the squealing was suddenly in Rob's arms and 494's eyebrows rose at her unusual use of tongue. "Who's this?" she asked, breaking the kiss and giving 494 a very interested once over.

"This," Rob smiled, "is my good friend, Simon. Simon, this is my _very_ good friend, V." He hitched her closer and she giggled. The older man pulled out a hundred and the prostitute grabbed it. "For a room."

"Gotcha sweetie." She hooked her arm in his, winking, and then looked at 494 again. "Hey, I could do a twofer…"

"Simon?"

494 blinked, surprised at Rob's unfazed acceptance of the suggestion. "I'm good here," he replied distantly. He'd done the threesome thing on an away mission almost a year ago, and while the experience with the Kezmekistani courtesan and 511 had been enjoyable, he just wasn't big on sharing. Plus, Simon Lehane would never participate in anything that wasn't straight vanilla.

"Suit yourself, man." Rob clapped him on the shoulder and followed a beckoning V. "Don't wait up!" he called back.

494's gaze immediately went to the girl dancing across the room. She faltered for a moment when his eyes landed on her again and 494 grinned, moving forward instinctually to circle predatorily.

Max wasn't sure what to make of him. She kept moving absently, putting up with Logan's pawing with carefully restrained distaste. The other man wasn't a regular, though Berrisford was, and the suit and tie he was wearing, along with the stiff body language, indicated he didn't frequent this type of scene at all. But his eyes…

She couldn't tell the color from this distance, nor make out much behind his thin wire frames, but she could feel them. A lot of men looked at her with lust or desire, some with passion or obsession, and one or two with misguided love, but she'd never been looked at with such intensity before. Her glance slid toward the bottom of the entry stairs and her whole body paused to find he was no longer standing there, but she could still feel him watching her.

"Angel?" Logan had noticed her hesitation this time. "Are you all right?"

She forced herself to smile at the proprietary worry in his voice and cursed her body's feline cycle that had caused her to drag him into a back room last month. "I'm always all right, baby," she cooed, "I think I just need a little break, get some water…You don't mind, do you?" She ran a caressing hand through his hair. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be waiting," he breathed, staring at her longingly.

She practically blurred away from him and into the dressing room, she pressed her forehead to the glass of the fish tank and decided Logan would just have to wait until tomorrow for her. Max peered out, looking for Gus to tell him she was leaving when she caught sight of Mystery Man, his eyes tracking the room slowly, and changed her mind.

"Looking for me?"

The question was posed in a sultry drawl and 494 took a breath, turning to face her. Gorgeous. Her face was all big lips and liquid eyes and her body was lean lines and soft curves. Exquisite. "What would make you say that?" he challenged, letting himself smirk.

"Call it a hunch." She moved a little closer to him and 494 caught her scent, lush and tropical. "You were watching me."

He found he liked sassy. "You were watching me back."

"I'm Angel."

"Simon." He cocked his head to the side and gave her skimpy black outfit a once over. "I thought angels wore white."

"I'm not that kinda angel," she retorted, "You want a dance?"

"Heard you were untouchable." He glanced toward where Cale was sitting, looking lost without her presence. He turned his face back to her and found she had followed his look, face a mask of disdain. "Cale not doing it for you?"

She shrugged and met his eyes. Green, she noted with satisfaction, almost catlike. She moved a little closer, so that her body was flush against his and leaned up until her lips brushed his ear. "You heard wrong, Simon, I'm very touchable." And she let her hands wander down to his waistband before pulling away. Max was pleased to see the intensity was back into those pretty hazel eyes, instead of the contrived nonchalance.

494's gaze was riveted on her lips. "How much?"

"50 bucks for half an hour in the back." The offer slipped out and Max realized with surprise that she was looking forward to sex with a man in a non-pheromonally induced way.

494 debated. Simon Lehane would never have sex with a whore, even one as attractive as Angel, but Rob would be occupied for another 45 minutes and no one else here knew Simon Lehane. His hand slid into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out his wallet. Angel smiled and started walking away, her hand on his arm causing him to go along.

They stopped in front of a round man who looked at 494 with an unimpressed once over. "How long?" he asked Angel, his dismissal of 494 obvious.

She grabbed his wallet and pulled out a fifty, giving it to Gus. "We'll be in room six." Max gave Simon a playful smile and tugged him with her. Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Max looked up at him. "Don't you want to find out how touchable I am, Simon?"

He stared at her hard, at the high heels and fishnet stockings, at the way the black lingerie barely covered anything, but just enough to make your imagination wander. Her smile was impish and her eyes open in the quiet of this room and 494 walked toward her slowly, running a thumb over those lips and down her cheek…

Max closed her eyes at the gentle touch and bit her lip as she felt the strap on her top lower and his lips grazed over the spot. Most guys had at it immediately, and she was pleasantly surprised. Of course, part of her expected him to be inexperienced, what with the uncomfortable way he'd held himself on the floor. Her expectation was not to be met. It was obvious, from the way his mouth moved over her neck and the way his hand roamed her body, that he had done this before, and that he was very, very good at it.

A hand in her hair had her head tilting up and she had to turn her head to keep from kissing him. "No," she panted, arching into the hand on her breast, "No kissing on the lips." It was a rule of thumb in her profession. True kissing was too intimate.

"Okay," he agreed, nipping at her ear.

494 grasped her hip, hoisting her up and against him, her long legs wrapping around his waist as he walked them to the bed. It was over with a shedding of clothes, flying glasses, deft hands, hot mouths on sweaty skin, and hard thrusts that had her whimpering until they both cried out with release.

He pushed himself off of her with a grunt and her hands clasped at his shoulders in an involuntary protest. Max had been with a fair amount of guys since her first heat at thirteen, but what had just happened had been so primal it was almost as if she was in the midst of her cycle. She felt a kiss to her shoulder and she opened her eyes and smiled. Kendra would be so pleased that she had found a Mr. Multiples.

"So," she asked, watching him trail slender fingers down her torso, "Did you see Heaven?"

Green eyes regarded her with surprise and then he chuckled. "I probably got as close to it as a guy like me is gonna get."

"Ooh." She turned on her side to face him. "You don't think you'll get in?" she teased, "What could a mild-mannered…" she paused, "What is it you do?"

"Piano teacher." Assassin.

"What could a mild-mannered piano teacher do to be barred from the Great Beyond?"

494 propped himself up on his elbow and tangled a hand in her thick hair. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you," he told her seriously. He smiled past the truth of that statement as Angel giggled.

"Suave, tiger, very James Bond of you."

He bit back the question about who James Bond was and focused on her smile. "I like to think of myself as more of a panther." He grinned as her smile widened and they lay in silence before he asked, because he couldn't help himself, "Do you usually talk this much to your clients?"

Max felt her smile dim. "I don't normally bring guys back here."

His eyes widened at the admittance. "Cale?" Her eyes slid away and she nodded. "Why?"

A shrug. "You could say it was the heat of the moment."

"Angel! Time's up!" The pounding on the door had them scrambling off the bed and shimmying into their clothes.

He grabbed her arm before she could open the door. "Will you be here tomorrow?" He swore at himself as the question left his lips, he was on a mission, he couldn't afford distractions.

"Yes." Damn it, she scolded herself, he's just a john, why was her heart beating so fast. "Bring enough for a couple hours." She turned the knob and suddenly felt herself turned around and pushed against the door, his lips on hers in a deep and drugging way.

494 pulled away, pleased with her dazed expression, "I like kissing." He twisted the knob away from her and opened the door in time to catch Rob coming out of a room two doors down.

"Simon!" the other man cried, reaching his friend, "You're still here!" His blue eyes slid to Max, who was still standing beside her patron in the doorway. Rob let out a whistle and pulled 494 into a noogie. "Didn't know you had it in you, you lucky dog!" 494 blushed because Simon Lehane would be embarrassed.

"Angel!" The big man was yelling at the girl still stuck to his side. "Cale's having a fit, get out there!"

Max muttered and pressed a kiss to Simon's cheek. "Tomorrow," she demanded in a murmur against his ear. She could feel his body shiver and he nodded in confirmation before she walked away, putting a sway in her hips just for him. She could still feel his eyes as she headed out onto the floor.

494 couldn't help himself from rushing through the next day; he brushed off Rob's congratulations and Rachel's eager invitation to a movie. After the youngest Berrisford's lesson, 494 reported to base and gave Sandoval a situation update. He was told to continue as before and that the mission would be coming to a close within the next week. 494 saluted and headed back to Seattle and Simon Lehane's apartment before leaving for the Blowfish tavern.

The big man in charge gave him a glare as he entered the back. "Angel?" he asked, passing over two hundred dollars.

He could tell when the man realized who he was because he huffed and gestured down the hallway. "She's waitin' in six again."

"Thanks," he said curtly, already on the move. 494 knocked once before letting himself in.

She turned to look at him, a genuine smile in place. "You came." No longer did he look like the horrified piano teacher of the night before. In the place of that Simon was one in dark jeans, black pullover, and gray leather jacket. The expression on his face was one of easy confidence. "Where are your glasses?" she asked, moving to meet him in the center of the room.

"I don't really need them," he told her conspiratorially, running his hands up and down her arms, "They just make me look more intelligent."

She laughed at his smirk and let him kiss her, all the while thinking she shouldn't be getting involved with him. "You're such a smart aleck," she mumbled against his lips.

"Yeah," he agreed and walked her backward until her knees hit the bed and she collapsed onto it, letting him follow her down as her hands slid under his jacket, tugging it off. "Angel…"

"Max," she corrected before she could think about it, "My name's Max."

"Max…" he breathed, mouth devouring hers.

"Oh," she gasped as he ripped open her bra, hands immediately moving to cup her breasts. "More, Simon, please…" Max could not believe this ordinary man had reduced her proud transgenic self to begging, but then his mouth was locked onto one sensitized nipple and she stopped thinking all together besides jumbled impressions of need and more and now and how much she needed to touch him.

494 growled at the lack of skin to skin and tore away to pull off his shirt, moving back to her soft body instantly. Her breathy little gasps of his assumed name had him torn between desire and disappointment and he wondered what his designation would sound like in the midst of her passion. But real people didn't have numbers, they had names, and his right now was Simon.

Her hands skimmed up his back as his lower body ground into hers and she arched her hips, frustrated with the feel of denim against her silk. She pushed, using just a bit of superhuman strength and he was on his back, green eyes staring up at her as she worked on his jeans until she could get a firm hold on his hardness. "Max," he hissed between his teeth, body bowing involuntarily at her little hands on his hot flesh.

She found herself underneath him once more with no idea how she'd gotten there, and felt his fingers sliding into her panties; felt his grin as he found her already wet and ready. "More," she pleaded, rubbing against his side as he withdrew hand.

"Yes," he agreed, before pouncing.

When it was over and they lay panting in each other's arms, Max snuggling closer like one of those heroines in her roommate's romance novels. "Time?"

"We got another hour," he told her, which would be plenty, especially with his quick recovery rate. "Maxie?" he asked, noticing her eyelids drooping.

"Hmm?" she responded, feeling sated. She turned so that she was spooned against him and luxuriated in the way their bodies fit together. Simon dropped a kiss to her shoulder and she smiled, feeling like the cat that ate the canary. "Kiss me again." He complied, lips moving over her shoulder and she leaned forward so that she was on her stomach, giving him access to more skin.

494, feeling very proud of himself at the sight of Max lying replete, pressed open-mouth kisses on her back from the base of her spine up. When he reached her neck, he nuzzled tenderly before moving the hair away to reveal the sensitive skin and felt his heart stop. "Interesting tattoo," he said, making his voice even, "Is it a barcode?"

He felt her tense before she compelled her body into relaxing. "Yeah," her tone was guarded, "I was in a gang when I was younger. We all got them." She was moving away from him to sit up, gathering her hair to cover the brand, not meeting his eyes.

"A gang," he echoed.

"Yeah." She leaned forward to initiate the kiss and 494 responded absently, mind racing. "Let's not waste our time talking, okay?"

"Okay," he granted her the change in topic and focused all his attentions on making her scream for him again.

They lay spent again and 494 ran over his options. He could capture her himself; a quick chokehold, tie her up while she was unconscious, call it in to his superior, and wait until back-up arrived, which would probably be sometime after she woke up to look at him with betrayal in those dark eyes. Or he could let her go, so she could continue on with her career as an exotic dancer, slipping into the back room with whatever Joe caught her in Heat, and he'd never see her after his mission ended.

Max watched in confusion as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. "Simon?" He was getting dressed. "We still have twenty minutes."

"I know, I just…" He looked at her, at a loss for words. "I have to go. I forgot I promised Rob some back-up tonight. He has a blind date, needs a wingman…" he let the lie trail off.

"But…" she shook her head, "Okay. Will you come tomorrow?"

"Yes," he practically yelled, "You'll see me again." He shrugged into his jacket and gazed at her, looking small against the cotton sheets, expression still baffled. He'd see her again. He dragged her up against him in a fierce kiss before stalking out the door of room six. Max stared after him, fingers touching her lips, trying not to read desperation and grief in that last kiss.

"This line is only for emergencies, 494."

"I'm aware, sir," he replied, heart pounding as he walked away from the Blowfish tavern.

"Is there critical information on Berrisford to relay, soldier?"

"No, sir, I just came in contact with a '09 escapee, sir."

"A rogue?" There was a new touch of surprise and eagerness in his handler's voice.

"Yes, sir."

"Which one?"

494 closed his eyes, "X5-452, sir."

"We'll have an extraction team on site immediately. Parameters?"

"Sector Nine, the Blowfish Tavern, she gets off at two a.m." He said it without inflection.

"Good work 494, do you want in on the capture?"

He could practically see the accusation in her big brown eyes. "No sir, I need to focus on my original objective."

"Very well."

The phone clicked off and 494 stared at his cell phone before hurling it angrily against a concrete wall. "I'm sorry, Max."


	3. HIJK

Author's Note Changed the rating to M over all, just in case. And, since my last AN didn't seem to stick on EFG, none of these are connected to any other one. Thank you, everyone, for the reviews, I may do a follow-up part to G as a thank you...

Specific ratings: H-K, I-K+, J-K+, K-K+ (K is kinda a Max POV to the one-shot Rainbow)

**Hero**

People were stupid. This fact was confirmed as the large group of vigilantes left the room to go home. It was six o'clock and their dinners were going to get cold. Alec rolled his eyes and waited until the last man, or woman, his ears weren't _that_ good, left the abandoned office building before standing slightly and throwing himself down as hard as he could.

The chair broke, as he knew it would, and he pulled his limbs free from the ropes that had kept him tied down. Tortured for information. Hah. He'd had worse during a training exercise when he was six, and he hadn't talked then. In fact, he could remember 600's backhand with fondness after being around Max for a year. Chick hit harder than a Mack truck, friend or no.

They'd planned, in their infinite wisdom, to let him stew there for a while before coming back to check on him, thinking that a few days without food or water or the ability to move would loosen his tongue. Geniuses, really. With all the outrageous stories going around about transgenics, they didn't believe he could spend a week without nourishment.

Well, time to go. Alec brushed himself off, couldn't they have chosen someplace less dusty for their torture chamber, and headed out the door, trying to picture which one had stolen his leather jacket and hoping Dix could drum up an address based on Joshua's composite sketch.

A noise down the hallway had the X5 pausing before he turned the corner. Apparently not all of the goon squad had left. He listened hard as the approaching footsteps petered away until there was silence. Was there another corridor off that one? Was the concerned citizen lost? He waited, breath held for five minutes, before venturing around the corner, and smack into a roundhouse kick.

"Ow." He blinked away stars and held his nose, afraid it might start bleeding.

"Alec?!"

He blinked at the high-pitched cry and squinted at the culprit. "Max?"

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking around.

"Been better." Seriously, Mack truck carrying a load of cement blocks.

"I'm here to rescue you," she announced.

"Bang up job." He pulled his hand away and scrunched his nose. Nope, not broken, just a little sore. A nice addition to all his other injuries.

"Where are they?" she inquired, in a fighting stance as she peered up and down the hallway.

"My friendly neighborhood abductors?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged, "Gone."

"Gone?" she repeated, "Where to?"

"Beats me, I'm just happy they stopped threatening my genitalia."

She shot him one of her patented death glares. "Ew." She relaxed and started walking back the way she came. Alec followed, as he was so wont to do. Her ass was just so hypnotizing. "What'd they want anyway?"

"The exact date we were planning on taking over the world."

"Seriously?"

"I told them they had the wrong house and to try the cult next door."

"Funny."

He smirked, "I thought so."

The stairway was bare except for the abandoned cobwebs and the not so abandoned spider webs with their humongous occupants eyeing the two X5 hungrily. For real, and arachnids had way too many eyes for that to be a good thing. And that one, Alec stared at the brightly colored spider that had dropped down to eyelevel, that one was probably poisonous.

"Alec!" The eight-legged insect scurried back up its thread and Alec blinked down at Max, who was standing in her patented impatient stance a whole level down. "What are you doing?"

"Staring contest?" he offered, making his way to her side. She gave him OC's patented 'ya fool' glare and continued downward. Alec followed again, wondering if she swayed her hips like that on purpose. Knowing Max, however, it was probably done unconsciously to taunt him. Look, but don't touch. Touching meant a beat down and beat downs were bad.

Rain. Rain and darkness was what awaited them as they exited the building, looking around cautiously for signs of his attackers. Well, Max looked for attackers, Alec looked for his bike.

"Son of a bitch."

"What?"

"They stole my bike."

"You'll get a new bike."

"I don't want a new bike, Max, I want my bike." His bike was neon green and easy to pick out when he'd forgotten where he parked. Higher intelligence or not, there were just some facts his brain could not retain; one being that Max hated being called Maxie, two being that rules weren't meant to be broken, and three being where he parked his ride.

Although, there weren't that many lime green Bandits in the city. He could probably find his easy peasy japanesy and then get the guy who stole it to tell him who took his jacket. He wouldn't even hurt him that bad, just a few well-placed hints of potential damage and he was sure the ordinary would sing like a bird-

"Get over it." Max was pulling her sleek little Ninja out of hiding and Alec glared at it hatefully. Max's bike meant he was riding bitch and he was so not a bitch. "Get on pretty boy."

Sigh. He trudged over to sit on the passenger seat, the squelching of wetness on his crotch so not pleasant, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Well, at least one good thing came out of this predicament; she couldn't slap him from this angle.

"Alec! Watch your hands!" She was shouting over the wind.

"Can't hear you!" he shouted back, tightening his hold.

Ow. She actually just head butted him. The nerve. Hadn't he had a rough enough day already? He'd been smacked around, threatened, left to perish, and then beaten up by his so called rescuer. Didn't he deserve a little fun? The least Max could do was let him feel her up, honestly…

The bike came to a halt outside his apartment building and he jumped off before she could turn on him, scurrying into the warmth of the foyer and trying to bring feeling back into his cheeks. Motorcycles and November in Seattle did not work, especially when one had had one's jacket stolen. A presence at his elbow had him spinning to look at his sometimes partner-in-crime. "Thanks," he said, surprised Max was following him this time. Hmm, maybe she really did have a thing for his ass.

"How'd they catch you?" she asked, walking beside him down his hallway.

"Thought I was too pretty for my own good."

"Alec, be serious."

He paused at his door, shooting her a reproachful glance as he unlocked it. "I'm hurt that you don't believe me, Maxie."

"It's Max."

"But I'm telling the truth," his voice took on a sardonic edge. He'd been flirting with the wrong girl and the boyfriend had taken offense. Really, it was pure chance that the guy's accusations on Alec's genetic perfection had been true. The rest of the bar had taken up arms against him and that was that. It was just lucky he didn't frequent that Sector of the city and could persuade, i.e. bat his lashes at, Normal never to send him there on a run.

He looked at her in confusion when, after he turned on the lights, she hissed. "Are you okay?" he asked, not liking the expression on her face.

"Am I okay? Look at you!" He froze as she cupped his face, tilting it toward the light. Touching…Max was touching him. Voluntarily. Were pigs flying? Had hell frozen over? "Did they hit you with a two by four?"

Ah, he supposed the setting sun and full-on night, not to mention the recessed lighting in the hall, hadn't given her a good view of his face. "Bar stool actually," he corrected, "Probably some other stuff, but I was unconscious for a while." She let him go and started rummaging around his freezer. He hoped she wouldn't ask what the large wad of cash was doing next to the pig's feet and ice cream.

"You're lucky I came looking for you," she informed him as she bundled ice cubes into a mostly clean dish towel. "Sit."

"I was lucky they were just lunatics and not murderers. And that people are stupid. You," he pointed out as she came closer, "had absolutely nothing to do with it. I already had myself out of the situation before you showed up with your half-assed heroics."

Max was gaping at him, one hand on a jutted hip, the other holding up an ice filled towel. It wasn't that an attractive of a pose. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He sat on top of the table and smirked at her, ignoring the hurt it caused. "Your rescue attempt, it was half-assed. And you kicked me, probably exacerbating my concussion."

"What_ever_."

"Good comeback."

"If you had just stayed put, I wouldn't have kicked you." She was right in front of him now. "And you don't have a concussion." She put the make-shift ice pack on his eye, none too gently he had to say. Max had no bedside manner; she'd make a terrible nurse.

"Ow." He glared out of his free eye. "So sorry, I don't do the damsel-in-distress thing well. Next time I'll wait patiently for my knight in black leather to arrive so I can swoon into your arms and you can carry me bridal-style back to your faithful steed. Sound fair?"

"Shut up."

She was so hard to please; one day she wanted him to take care of things on his own and not to talk to her and the next day she was all 'you need back up, why didn't you call me?' It was enough to drive any red-blooded American transgenic male up a wall. But she still wasn't leaving him on his own, and she still hadn't given him a real, patented Alec's a screw-up speech. He was totally gonna push his luck.

"Max."

Her eyes were wary as she watched him put his ice pack down. "What?"

Alec smiled, trying his best to look shy, and batted his lashes at her. "You're my hero." She rolled her eyes. "Can I have my obligatory kiss now?"

"What?" Well, that was a little high-pitched.

"That's how it works, Maxie," he explained patiently, standing up, "Aren't you all into the Disney endings?" He was kissing her before she could sputter a reply, and in his modest opinion, it was definitely a fairy-tale ending kind of kiss. And she was kissing him back. Getting abducted was so completely worth this moment.

He broke off the kiss and took a quick second to memorize her flushed skin, swollen lips, and closed eyes, it would be a picture his highly intelligent brain would need to remember once she got those eyes open. "The concussion made me do it!" he cried, already across the room before her dreamy expression turned to homicidal rage.

Because, really, truly, whether he loved her or not; the girl hit like a Mack truck carrying a load of cement blocks and driven by a giant.

**Imposter**

"Good work, 453."

Sam watched impassively as her twin was loaded, bound and unconscious, into the back of the black SUV. "My family," she demanded.

Ames White smiled and she didn't like it, "All in good time, 453. I just have one more thing I need you to do."

"That wasn't the deal," she spat at him, furious.

"I'm changing the deal. I want 494 as well, he's been a pain in my ass and I want to make sure he's gone once and for all." His cold blue eyes stared at her challengingly. "Think you can handle that 453?"

She needed a cigarette. "Yeah, I can handle it."

"Good. Call me when you have him." White started toward his car and Sam decided she'd rip him apart once her husband and son were safe.

Her bike felt natural beneath her and she sped back into the heart of Seattle until she was back outside 339 Waverly and giving the run down building a once-over. Apparently 452 was a squatter. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she headed through the entrance and took the elevator to 452's floor. The doors opened to reveal a black woman dressed to kill. She stared at Sam blankly.

"Thought you was leavin' town?" A well-manicured hand held the door from closing and her body blocked Sam's escape.

"Nah." She wet her lips, "Got some family stuff to take care of." She wasn't sure how well 452 knew this woman, but Sam's family was of utmost importance.

"Boo, OC thought you was straight trippin'!" she exclaimed, before throwing her arms around Sam and hugging tightly. Sam hugged back briefly, always uncomfortable with strangers and physical contact. This must be the Nubian princess 452 roomed with; the file had stated her name was Original Cindy. 452 lived an odd life. "Now, what say the two of us fine sisters take your boy up on his offer to buy drinks?"

"I don't know," Sam said, trying to get out of it. Hanging out with 452's boyfriend and pretending to get drunk wasn't going to help her find 494.

"Don't even, Max. You gonna make up for scarin' me so bad by comin' to Crash for a drink. After that, we can hang out and chill. Pamper ourselves a little, it'll be fun."

So Sam found herself surrounded by 452's co-workers, a bunch of unwashed, uncouth twenty-somethings, trying to act like she was having a good time.

"Where's Alec?" OC muttered, bringing a pitcher back to the high table she and Sam were sitting at. "Just like a man, never keepin' his promises. That's why OC likes the fairer of the species. Besides being so much prettier, they always keep their word." She made a noise of satisfaction and sent a flirtatious smile to a redhead playing darts. "So," she continued, staring Sam dead in the eye, "You hear Normal and Sketchy's latest theory about you being a transgenic?"

"What?"

"Seems that little stunt yesterday has got them wired. You keepin' your barcode lasered, right?"

Sam's hand moved involuntarily to the back of her neck. Didn't 452 know how to keep a secret? "It's taken care of."

"Good. Well, here comes the devil." Sam followed OC's gaze to the stairs. She'd seen the guy early, outside Jam Pony, and acknowledged he was good-looking, but there was something about the way he moved in the crowd here that had her hand going to her inner jacket pocket. Her wedding ring rested at the bottom of it, a comforting weight. "Alec, honey!" OC called, and his face swung around, his eyes meeting hers and she found herself nervous at the anger in them.

He nodded at her companion, "OC," and then looked straight at her, "I thought we were meeting a Joshua's." He made it a statement, not a question.

Sam shrugged, giving him an apologetic smile, "Sorry, must've slipped my mind, sweetie."

"What? Max are you-"

"Alec," Cindy interrupted, and Sam realized they were both looking at her like she was crazy. What had she done wrong? Maybe they didn't use pet names? "How about you go get yourself a drink and join us in a bit?"

"Yeah, sure." He back-tracked, giving Sam one last confused look.

"Boo? Far as I can see, Logan's not here, so what's with the snuggly bear attitude with hot boy?"

"What?"

"Thought Alec wasn't supposed to know you'd made him your pretend boyfriend unless it was absolutely necessary?"

"Um…" Sam had definitely made a mistake.

"Max." Alec was back, putting a glass of scotch on the table, and staring at Sam intently, "Can I have a word?"

"I don't-"

"Now."

Both women bristled at his tone, but Alec had her arm in a vise-like grip and was pulling her away from OC. "Let go," she ordered, trying to rip her arm from his grasp. It didn't work, and she'd even put some super strength into it.

"Where's Max?" he growled in her ear, shoving her out onto the wet sidewalk.

"I'm Max."

"Yeah, right, and I'm the President of the United States." They stared at each other and Sam realized he was X5, the way he held himself, the empty expression on his face…all Manticore.

"How'd you know?"

"You smell like cigarettes and guns, two things Max would never touch. So, who are you and where is Max?"

"Designation's 453 and I turned her over to a man named Ames White."

"You what?" The mask was gone, replaced by open-mouthed astonishment. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"Hey, I had to spend six months in Psy Ops because of her and her little traitor unit."

"So did I, you don't see me turning in every 5, 6, and 8, I see, do you?"

Sam studied him, surprised at his indignation on 452's behalf. "White has my family." His anger was fading. "He won't give them back until I bring in 494 as well."

He was smirking now, "Good luck, but I don't really see myself coming quietly, considering White wants my head on a plate."

So he was 494, she should've known. "I want my husband and my son back, 494."

"Name's Alec, and I want Max back, so, I'm thinking we should work together."

"Why don't you hate her?" Sam asked. She thought about all those months in Psy Ops, the memories still fresh. "She ruined my life, and he ruined yours."

Alec shrugged, "Sometimes I do. She can be a real bitch sometimes, but being out here, I'm free. And she did that. Heck, if she hadn't burned down Manticore, would you even be with your husband?" Sam looked away because she knew the answer. Her mission had been coming to a close and one day Johnny would come home from school to find his mom missing and Steve would never know what happened to his loving wife. "I'll take that as a no."

"So what's the plan, brainiac?"

"We find a suitable place for a handover; you tie me up and tell White you have me. We kick his freaky, snake-loving, cult ass and offer an exchange. Max and your family for his life." 494 was grinning again.

"And what makes you think I won't just hand you over for real? Why risk my family's lives on the chance that White gets away?"

"You hand me over and they're as good as dead." His face was so serious, not even his eyes were laughing now. "White hates us. The minute he has me to add to his set, you'll get a bullet in your brain and your family, the husband and son you love so much, will meet with an unfortunate accident on their way to freedom. He's done it before, and his word is meaningless."

"Fine." She could see White doing it, not caring of the innocent lives he was ending. He was just that cold of a bastard. "We'll do it your way."

"Great!" He set off walking and Sam followed, unsettled by his sudden changes in mood. "You ever been to Terminal City? We'll get ourselves some back up."

The snow was making her chilly and Sam glanced at 494, sitting on the cold ground, humming to himself. She puffed away at her smoke, waiting impatiently for White to arrive, and scanned their surroundings. She couldn't see the transhumans, but she knew they were there, lying in wait like the predators they had been trained to be.

"So he's human, huh?"

She'd discovered 494 like to talk. About what, it didn't matter, he'd started several one-sided conversations to while away the time, but now it seemed he was ready to address her. "Yeah, he was my assignment."

He nodded, and a note of bitterness crept into his tone. "It doesn't work, you know. We don't belong with them."

"Speaking from experience?" she asked, feeling on guard.

"Yeah, well…" His laugh was self-deprecating. "Do you think he'll look at you the same once you tell him what you are?"

"Do you think she'll _ever_ look at you?" Sam shot back viciously and watched half with satisfaction and half with guilt when the mask slammed back in place. She'd known it by the edge in his voice, by the fact that he was still by her side, still fighting for her. If he didn't hate her, he loved her.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Even his voice was vacant of emotions. "Right, sorry, my mistake." She tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and rubbed it out. "She will, though." His head came up and he looked at her cautiously. "At Crash, you got my blood boiling and I'm a happily married woman." She smiled, "Besides, that Logan guy seemed like a jerk."

He smiled back, eyes thoughtful, "He definitely can be." And then the conversation was over.

Two hours later Sam was watching Alec hover around her clone as Max yelled at him for doing so, but she wasn't pulling away when he started suturing her cuts, and her eyes when she looked at him were affectionate and Sam knew it was just a matter of time before Max would be looking for real and Alec would no longer be a pretend boyfriend.

Half an hour after that, she was seated in an SUV that Alec had stolen, Steve in the driver's seat and Johnny sleeping on the back seat, on her way to Canada. Sam glanced at the rearview mirror as they sped away from Terminal City and then at her husband, who wasn't quite meeting her eyes. She sighed and twisted her wedding band around her finger. Even if Alec didn't, Sam still hated 452.

**Jealous **

X5-493 was prepared for a fight when the men in black showed up. What he was not prepared for was the announcement that all Manticore operations were being shut down and dismantled. That transgenics no longer needed to fear persecution, no longer had to hide. That thanks to Congress, they could get jobs without being discriminated against, marry ordinary humans, have children, and live peacefully. It was their right as U.S. citizens.

The small Alaskan base that he trained in was where they sent the rejects that had some hope of recovery. 493 knew precisely why he was here, a hormone imbalance had triggered a psychosis and he had murdered several people in cold blood. They'd fixed him and started standard re-indoctrination procedures as soon as the nanocytes had repaired his spinal cord from where it had been snapped.

He had been out in the real world before and from the little he could recall there was no order to it, no purpose. So while others of his series migrated from their facility across the Canadian border, some heading to the states, 493 stayed where he was. The town near the base was small and friendly, but he kept himself separate from the masses, unwilling to become confused again.

It was a normal day of anonymity for him, skirting people on the sidewalk, ignoring greetings, when everything changed. He had been hunched over to conserve body heat and concentrating on avoiding ice patches when he looked up and saw her.

The cameras caught her from a distance, but he knew her. He paused in his trek home to stare at the TV screens in the window. He stayed gazing at the window for far longer than the news segment ran. Max, his enhanced brain supplied. Max who was his sister, mother, killer, savior…Max who was simply his.

Washington. Seattle. That was where she was. 493-Ben, he reminded himself, the name there like he had never forgotten it, packed his sparse belongings and left the room he rented before the sun had set on that previously ordinary day.

The little ship he was on started sinking off the coast. Ben wasted no time in procuring a life-boat and heading toward shore. He docked in a Seattle port by luck and headed through the rest of the city on foot, sneaking past Sector checkpoints with ease.

The news being broadcast was that the ship he was on had been hit by anti-transgenic terrorists. The captain had been known to be sympathetic to the transgenic cause and had ferried many across the ocean to Canada. The news reporter said there had been no casualties, but several injuries, and one missing passenger. Ben gave a little sneer at the remembrance of the crew, praying to their God, to Christ, to Mary the mother, as they loaded into the remaining life-boats. False worship, but it had served them well, he supposed. His thoughts turned from religious idols to his true Lady and he set back out to find her.

Terminal City was open, a concession to their freedoms, but there were still guards posted inside the gates. Ben strode forward, wondering how to identify himself, but the X6 waved him through with a smile and a compliment on his haircut. He shrugged it off and continued, hiding in alleys when he might have met up with another transgenic. The sun was just beginning to go down when he found his way through the maze of a city within a city and to their HQ.

He slipped in unnoticed by the occupants of the building, crowded as they were around a computer screen. Nomalies. Ben reared further back in shock at the grotesque faces and his heart started racing, but none of the X5s that had just entered the room seemed to care about the creatures. His eyes scanned the room for another exit, his now blocked, and they caught on her.

She was wearing blue, something he recognized as ironic, and she looked beautiful. His Max. Ben reminded himself to breathe, and felt a smile creep across his face. She was here, and now he was with her, and nothing could go wrong again. Max would keep him grounded.

"Well, don't you clean up pretty?" The statement was drawled in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Ben and he turned his head slightly to see the man who had just entered the derelict building that was the transgenic base of operations. He felt his eyes widen and his blood start to pump at the sight of his own face.

The man who wore his face continued forward, never taking his eyes off of Ben's Max, and 493 wanted to snap him in half. "Prettier than you, smart aleck," Max replied instantly, sounding amused. Ben felt his heart racing. She had to know it wasn't him.

False Ben was smiling charmingly, and he wrapped his arms around Max, fingers getting lost in folds of blue-green fabric as he pulled her down for a kiss. Pure, unadulterated rage filtered through Ben and the sight of his copy touching what was meant to be his.

"Max and Alec late."

"Josh's right," the man, _Alec_, said, sounding regretful.

"He usually is," Max responded, running her hands down the imposter's lapels, "C'mon McDowell, this Councilman's Ball was your idea. It's rude to show up late to your own party."

Ben couldn't take the sight of them anymore. He stepped out of the shadow and called her. "Max?"

Everyone looked at him, but he only had eyes for her. Her face drained of color. "Ben?" she whispered, shocked.

He smiled, "Hi."

She was out of not-Ben's arms and into Ben's almost immediately, and Ben relished the feel of her against him, pressing a kiss to her hair and squeezing her tight. She pulled back slightly, eyes hopeful and astounded, "How…"

A shrug rolled across his shoulders, "Manticore," and he pulled her close once again.

"I'm sorry," she murmured in his ear.

"Don't be. You saved me, Max," he whispered back.

A throat cleared and Ben looked up into his own eyes, dark and suspicious. "Max we have to go."

Ben's grip tightened and he met the clone's glare. "Don't leave me, Maxie."

She kept a hold of Ben's hand as she turned to Alec. "You can't expect me to leave _now_," she exclaimed, "I have to get him settled in."

"I need a date."

"Get Krys, you know she's been dying for a chance to hang on you arm."

"Max-"

"Alec, please, he's my brother."

"Fine. You call Krys, I'd like to have a chat with Brother Ben."

She smiled and squeezed Ben's hand. "I'll be right back." Her look at Alec was freezing, "Be nice."

"Always," he called after her, before looking back at Ben. Ben met his eyes and followed when he gestured outside. "So, Ben-"

"What's your designation?"

"494."

Ben smirked, "A cheap knock-off then." Alec's eyes darkened a little bit more. "Don't touch my sister."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Ben moved closer to his twin, forcing the other man to step back a little. "Keep your hands off of her. She's mine to take care of."

494's entire expression lightened, and he laughed. "You're jealous."

"Of you? Please."

"Don't worry Benny-boy, I won't be taking her sisterly affections away from you. I don't really think of her as a sibling anyway, 'specially not when she's in my bed." Ben saw red, and had 494 pinned against the structure's wall in less than a second. "Temper, temper."

"Don't talk about her like that."

"She's my mate," Alec told him, "I can touch her any time I want and _I_ will be the one taking care of her." He shoved Ben back and smoothed down his tuxedo. "And another thing, brother of mine, I find out anyone's missing any teeth…I will end you."

"What makes you think you can?" Ben demanded, he had always been a brilliant hunter.

494's smile was practically angelic. "I'm better."

"Everything okay out here?" Max had come through the doors, still breathtakingly beautiful in her excitement.

"Peachy," they chorused and threw the other a hateful glare.

She blinked. "That's just weird." She grabbed onto Alec's hand. "Krys will be here in five. I'm going to get Ben into an apartment, but I'll wait up, so don't be too late." She leaned up for a deep kiss that had Ben clenching his hands. 494 smiled at him over the top of Max's head as she gave him one last embrace.

**Kiss **

Alec trusted her. Max knew this because he was bent over her bed with his bare ass in the air, trusting her not to laugh at him. So she simply smiled instead of chuckling and made sure the light was at a good angle for her to dig the bullet out. "How'd this happen, Alec?"

"Don't want to talk about it Maxie-yahhh, God, could your hands be any colder?"

She bit her lip. "Don't be such a baby."

"I'm just saying…you could be a little gentler, and warmer. You should see Dr. Carr about your blood circulation, maybe get some tips on proper bedside manners-"

"Hey," she interrupted, "If you wanted gentle you should've gone to Logan."

"Tch, like I want Logan to see me bare-assed."

She wished she could see his face. "But it's okay for me to be traumatized by the sight?"

"Oh, c'mon Maxie, you know you've been dying to see my ass in all its glory." She could hear the amusement in his voice and gave him a good swat. "Hey! Ow! I've been shot here!"

"Stay still," she scolded, focusing on the task at hand.

"It's not like I knew you'd be home," he rambled on.

"So you hobbled across town, shot and bleeding out, on the off chance that just maybe I'd be here to set you right?" she asked.

"Maybe I was hoping OC was home."

"Maybe you're lying."

His head craned sideways so she could see him grinning, "Like a Persian rug, sweetheart. Ow! Maxie, c'mon, stop hitting me!"

Alec had a good heart. Max knew this because when Sketchy was in the hole two hundred, Alec threw the game to let his friend win.

"That was nice of you," she told him, her smile sincere.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, smiling pleasantly back.

"No?" Max reached into his pocket and pulled out the queen of hearts. "This would have given you a royal flush, right?"

Alec rolled his hazel eyes at her and snatched the card back. "Whatever. I'll just win it all back, and his next paycheck, at Crash tomorrow."

Max's smile stayed on her face at the sound of his defensiveness. "It's okay to be the good guy once in awhile, Alec."

"And here I thought I was always the bad guy." Max lost her smile and suddenly felt the need to apologize, but couldn't seem to make her mouth form the words. "Forget it, Maxie." The resentment in his tone gone like it had never been. "C'mon, I'll let you buy me a drink."

"Just the way I wanted to spend my evening, how'd you know?" She put up a token of resistance as he tugged her out of Jam Pony's back room and toward a seedy bar and a night of beer, scotch, and watching him flirt.

Alec was attractive. Max knew this in an abstract kind of way because he was Manticore and, as Cindy said, Manticore knew how to make them pretty, but she hadn't really recognized that he was attractive to her until Lil' Suki pointed it out.

"He's just so edible."

"Uh-huh."

"You didn't even look."

Max looked up from the notes Logan had given her about some guy named Smith and his drug company. She spared a glance toward the bar where Alec was flirting with a blonde and a brunette and then back at Suki. "He two-timed you," she reminded the other girl.

Suki shrugged, "It's not like we said we were exclusive, and Normal gave me my job back." She let loose a sigh, twirling a blue streak in her hair, "Sex with Alec McDowell is like a religious experience, Max."

"Ew."

Suki shot her a glare, "Sorry, forgot who I was talking to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you wouldn't know a good lay if it walked in shirtless and propositioned you." Suki flipped her hair off her shoulder and stalked off in Alec's direction.

Max stared after her open-mouthed and felt a sear of anger as the girl plastered herself to Alec's side, giggling and whispering in his ear. And Alec was grinning back, his hands resting on Suki's hips and Max hmphed. His head swung around immediately and Max started as he looked right at her. He turned back to Suki and Max was surprised to see him disengage himself from his clinging ex and start toward her.

"I thought I heard someone grunt," he stated, joining her without invitation, "What's this?" He pulled a piece of the report away from her.

"Eyes Only stuff," Max replied, snatching it back, "Why don't you back to Lil' Suki and finish eating her face off."

"Such hostility, is someone jealous?"

"Please," she sneered at him and was uncomfortable to see him continuing to smirk at her. His eyes were laughing. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

He continued to stare at her, smirking, Max licked in her lips in annoyance and wondered how many freckles he had on his face. Shocked at the direction her thoughts were taking her she stood abruptly. "I have to go."

Alec was a freeing influence. Max knew this because he was right beside her as they raced their motorcycles down the streets of Seattle, never letting the other one gain the lead, until they came to a screeching halt outside of Fogle Towers, almost running Logan over.

And while Logan was lecturing them on safety and Max was trying to keep a silly adrenaline driven smile off her face, Alec was grinning from ear to ear, and mouthing 'Rematch' to her behind her not-boyfriend's back.

Alec was her friend. Max knew this because when she was restless and prowling at three in the morning, she could break into his apartment, drag him out of bed, steal one of his T-shirts, settle him onto his couch, crawl into his lap, and listen to the sound of his deep, even breathing as he slept. Because he let her curl up on top of him, one ear pressed to his chest to hear his steady heartbeat and her eyes glued to some late-night reruns, until she fell asleep herself.

The pan clattered to the floor and Max bit back a swear word, but the noise was enough. "Whazzit?" Alec's head popped over the top of the sofa to peer blearily at her and Max ducked her head to prevent him from seeing her smile at the sight of his hair, sticking up in every direction from a night on the couch.

"Breakfast," she told him, scraping the salvageable from the pan and giving the mess on the floor an irritated glare.

"Breakfast?" he perked up.

"Oatmeal."

He made a face. "Yum."

Alec could never be her brother. Max knew this because her heart had never beaten so fast when Zack's arms had been around her.

"Ready?" He dropped her before she could reply and Max glowered at him, trying not to notice that the arms that had just been holding her were corded with lean muscles. His grip at her wrists was firm and strong and Max knew he wouldn't let go until she gave the signal.

She judged the distance over the pressure-sensitized floor to the alarm she needed to disable before they could pull off this heist. Max started swinging, trying to gain momentum, and gave Alec's hands a squeeze, taking the inopportune moment to take note of how warm and smooth his skin was, and then she was flying through the air.

It took fifteen seconds to disable the alarm and then he was dropping from the ceiling to the floor, gloves now in place, grinning at her the way he always did when they were doing illegal things to bad people. She smiled back, because she had a hard time not smiling with him nowadays. "Easy as sin."

Alec was very touchable. Max knew she liked touching him because she didn't protest anymore when he touched her. She found herself leaning into his body when he stood at her back, and resting her head on his arm when he stretched it onto the back of her seat, and her punches had turned into soft swats that ended in more of a caress than a true hit.

Max sighed and tugged on a lock of his growing hair. It was silky and curly and she wanted to mess it up. "What was that for?" he asked, pulling away from her side to find a mirror to fix the damage she'd rendered. Max just shrugged, knowing she'd do it again and not wanting to admit she couldn't help it.

Alec was irreplaceable. Max knew this when she pushed herself out from under Joshua's body and screamed for him and he didn't answer. When she looked around the collapsing building and saw a pair of legs sticking out from a pile of rubble. Legs covered in torn green cargos with impractical orange zippers. Max knew it when her heart stopped beating.

"Alec?" And that thin, quavering voice couldn't be hers. "Alec!" And that cry, just as lost, also wasn't hers. She blurred over to the mound of cement ceiling and started tossing away pieces. The voice that wasn't hers kept saying his name over an over.

Finally, she could see his face, cut up and bruised, and she grabbed his shoulder and shook him. The wetness beneath her fingers had her pulling them away to stare in horror at the viscous fluid that coated them. Blood. Alec's blood. "Alec?" she whispered. She bent down, ear hovering over his mouth, until her wish was granted. He was breathing. She kissed him, just a quick brush of lips, out of pure joy, before she even realized she'd thought of it.

He groaned, and she remembered to breathe. His eyes opened, glazed over with pain, but she was simply happy to see the inhuman hazel of them. "Max?" his voice was as weak as the not-her voice.

"I'm here."

"You're alive?" He was trying to focus on her face. She nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "White's dead."

Now that she knew he was safe, she allowed the flood to come. Max buried her head against his chest, aware of how little time they had to leave, and felt comforted by his hand in her hair. "So's Joshua," she sobbed, muffled against his dirty shirt.

Alec loved her. Max knew because he told her so. Because he stood in the middle of a church sanctuary, green eyes blazing, and told her flat-out that he loved her while she stood before a priest saying her vows to another man.

She was aware, peripherally, that Logan was sputtering incoherencies and that the priest was confused, and that the entire assembly of witnesses were whispering behind their hands, but she was focused on Alec, feeling unusually calm.

His gaze finally broke away from hers and he glanced around the church, a blush of embarrassment on his freckled cheeks, and started backing down the aisle. "That's it. Sorry, just thought you should know," he babbled, "Sorry again." He waved at the priest to restart the ceremony. "Carry on, pretend I wasn't here." And he turned and started walking faster.

Max loved Alec back. She knew this because she called, "Wait!" and passed a speechless Logan her bouquet with an apologetic smile. Alec had stopped, and was now staring at her, mouth open, as she walked down the aisle toward him. She slid her hand into his and tugged him to keep on walking. "I'll come with you."


	4. LMNOP

Specific ratings: L-M, M-K, N-K, O-T, P-K

_Author's Note: _'L' was inspired by number 54 of MeryKey's manips, and pretty much started this whole series of one-shots dealio, so you owe her all the love. **Thank you**, everyone, for the wonderful reviews, I appreciate all the feedback, and I hope you continue to enjoy each little ficlet.

**Last **

"Boo, you aiight?"

"Fine," Max responded automatically, tilting her head to look up at her best friend.

"You been ignorin' a sista for five minutes." Original Cindy was having none of her X5 stubbornness. "You ain't fine. Now what's up?"

Max sighed, "Nothing."

"Uh-huh." One perfectly arched eyebrow raised, "You don't show up at Crash last night, don't come home at all, and you expect me ta believe 'nothing' is up?"

"Alec," Max said, venom dripping, "had a heist."

"And hot boy asked you to come for back-up?"

"No."

"So you just tagged along?"

Max shifted against the lockers she was leaning on. "I wasn't about to let him go alone," she informed her friend. "He'd get himself into some scrape or another and risk exposing himself, and me and Joshua by extension. I'd just end up bailing his ass outta trouble anyway. I thought I'd save myself some time."

"And…"

"We got shot at."

Max wasn't going to mention that it had been her sudden appearance that had caused the deal to go bad. OC didn't need to know that. She also didn't need to know that Alec had taken a bullet to the head pulling Max out of the way.

"You have some words with the boy?"

"You know it." There had been mutual yelling. "He got grazed. I took him back to his place to patch him up. I stayed the night to make sure he didn't have a concussion."

"Speak of the devil," OC murmured, watching as Alec came strolling down the ramp, happy-go-lucky grin in place, greeting fellow messengers and deftly avoiding Normal's advances.

"Ladies," he said, grin widening as he nudged Max off his locker. She moved with a grunt, noticing that the only sign of the head wound was a thin line of red at his temple that would be gone by tomorrow.

"Where are you going?" she demanded as he moved away.

"Little boy's room."

"Tch."

"Hot run, Sector Eight," Normal yelled, throwing a package toward Max and Cindy. Cindy caught it reflexively. "Bip, bip!"

Brown eyes met brown, "Look's like your boy hasn't grasped the consequences of his actions, maybe you should have a few more words. Make sure he's feeling grateful for you saving his ass."

"He's not my boy," Max responded automatically, "But you're right. I should remind him of our discussion." She tapped OC's fist and headed toward the back, empty of messengers at this point in the day.

Alec came whistling out and she grabbed him immediately, pushing him violently against the row of lockers. "Whoa," he held his hands up in defense, "I know you like it rough, Maxie, but-"

"Shut up and listen," she interrupted, "Last night was a mistake. There will be no repeat. Last night did _not_ happen. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good." She let go of his jacket and stalked toward the dispatch desk, grabbing a few packages and hauling ass out of Jam Pony, determined to forget last night in its entirety.

He wasn't at Crash that night, and she didn't know why she went to his apartment. A quick knock and then she bullied her way in, ambushing him as he exited his bathroom. Lips met fiercely, an angry hunger, and then she was tugging him toward the bedroom, hands disposing quickly of the blue towel and caressing what flesh was available.

His hands were just as quick, deftly removing her thin shirt and unbuttoning her pants. "Thought you said there'd be no repeat of last night?"

She shoved him onto the bed, shimmying from her jeans and straddled him, biting back her moan at the feel of him. She met his eyes, "You can't repeat what never happened."

He smirked, thrusting up with enough force to make her gasp. "And what about tonight?"

"One of your best dreams ever."

"That right?"

"That's right," she confirmed, quickening the pace, "And tomorrow night will be just a figment of your overactive imagination. Got it, pretty boy?"

He twisted too fast for her to protest, and her head hit his pillow as he deepened his angle. "Got it."

**Mind **

Max swept through the infirmary looking for Vic. The head medic had mentioned that he and his small staff needed a supply run if she wanted the hospital to run at all adequately. It had taken her a few days to get down here, there were so many other things demanding her time, but here she was. And here Vic wasn't.

"Hello?"

"Max?" The tall X-5 appeared from a utility closet. "What's up?"

"I came to get your list of supplies," she said, "So, what do you need?"

"Alec brought everything last night," he told her, confused at her confusion, "I just finished getting it all inventoried."

"Alec?" she repeated.

"Yeah." Vic nodded, "Thanks for putting a team together so quickly. With those fireworks that came in with the last entertainment run, I have a feeling most of the X-8s are going to need some patching up."

The double doors burst open and a harried looking Gem strode in, Eve propped on a hip and dragging Dalton by the arm. "_Someone_ decided to celebrate the fourth a little early." She swung Dalton toward Vic and Max, who could now see an oozing scrap of skin through a holey pant leg.

"It's just a singe," Dalton protested as Vic pointed him toward a cot, "I've had worse from a fall on the obstacle course."

"Sit down," Gem ordered, "and let Vic fix you."

"Dalton," Max broke in, "Fireworks are dangerous, even for-"

"I got it Max." The X-6 rolled his eyes, "Alec already read me the riot act. Safety first, don't be a know-it-all, set a good example for the kids, blah, blah, woof, woof…" Then he gave her a grin that reminded her of her 2IC, "And since I've shown an aptitude for explosives, he's gonna let me help with the demolition crews over on Maple Street next week!"

"Hmph, we'll just see about _that,_ little man," Gem put in, the scolding in her voice belied by the hand she ran through his unruly hair. Eve cooed, reaching out for her big brother and Dalton took her from Gem, bouncing the baby on his lap.

Max smiled at the sight of the misfit family, glad that her vision was slowly coming to fruition. TC was becoming a home for the transgenic population, a place of belonging. "Well, since everything is all set here, I guess I'll head back to command."

"Bye," the others chorused, Vic giving her another thank you, and Max walked away.

Command was pretty well-populated for the afternoon. The different series gathered here and there, making plans, going over living requirements, monitoring the news, and a variety of other odd jobs that kept the city running. She made her way over to Dix. "I heard there were some glitches in the system? What can we do?"

"Alec and I got it all straightened out this morning," Dix assured her.

"Really?"

"Yup, all set."

"Isn't that great," she muttered and walked away. "Do we have a wish list?" Max asked as she found Luke.

"Alec already grabbed it," he replied, hurrying away.

"Did he?" She moved on to where two of her siblings were poring over a map. "Syl, Krit, what's the what?"

"Heist," the little blonde said succinctly.

"Alec suggested the new Egyptian exhibit at the museum," Krit expanded, "We're just looking at security details and entry/exit points. We should have a working plan for tomorrow's meeting."

"Are you sure you want to be following Alec's advice?" Max inquired, thinking wistfully about her baseball.

"It's a solid job, Max. He has a buyer lined up for it already. All we need to do is deliver."

"I don't know why you're always complaining about him, Maxie," her big sister put in, "He seems pretty on the ball."

"Dude's awesome," Krit exclaimed, "He hooked me up with a plasma and game system, like, the second day we were here. It freakin' rocks!"

"Yeah, Alec's great," Max agreed, not sounding at all enthused. Just what the hell was he playing at? "See you later."

She stomped all the way up to her tiny office and was greeted by the last person she wanted to see. "Hey Maxie!"

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded. Specifically, what was he doing behind _her_ broken down desk, going through _her_ papers?

"Whoa, chill, I was waiting for you."

"Well, I'm here." She came around the desk, forcing him to move away from her chair, and plunked down. "Where's the wish list?" she snapped.

"I've got it covered, Maxie." He was looking at her like she was crazy, as if he wasn't the one in the wrong.

"That seems to be the general consensus," she said icily, "Did you want to take my interview with Sketchy, too?"

Alec let loose a sigh that grated on her nerves, "What I'd do wrong _now_?"

How dare he sound exasperated?! "Do you want to be CO?" she demanded, standing again.

"Hell no!"

"Then what are you doing Alec? The medical supplies are all taken care of, the kids have a bunch of toys to play with, the computers are running better than ever, you've got half the wish list completed, a buyer lined up for a job not even planned, and my siblings are eating out of the palm of your hand! You're doing my job! Stop it!"

"Sorry!" he burst in, green eyes angry, "I'm so very sorry that I tried to get things done so that you could have some time off to relax. I'm sorry I'm not screwing up at this particular space in time, but it looks as if you've found another reason to yell at me, so no problem there…I'm sorry I'm trying to be nice, I'll never do it again. God! You are such a bitch, I don't know what I was thinking!" And then he was storming out.

"Alec," she called, scrambling after him, feeling a little ashamed.

"What, Max," he sounded tired as he turned and leaned against the railing. The railing that he leaned on several times a day, joking with her or holding a conversation with their cohorts. The railing that chose that precise moment to give way. Alec went flailing down ten feet to land on his hands and knees.

"Alec!" She jumped down, landing lightly beside him as he hoisted himself up, red-faced. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm like a cat." He gave her a little grin.

"Cats land on their feet, fool," she pointed out.

"Cats also have four feet," he argued.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry I yelled. I just overreacted a little."

"A little?"

"A very little." She refused to be provoked into admitting she was wrong. "Just, you know, tell me when you're doing things."

"Sure Maxie."

"And you all," she continued, glaring around the room, "can stop gawking and get back to work." There was a flurry of activity and she avoided Syl's wink.

"Max."

"Yes Alec?"

"I'm going to fix that railing now."

"Sounds good."

"You want me to bring you lunch later?"

The offer was sudden and completely unexpected. Max watched him pick up the fallen railing, and tried to figure out what her response to the question should be. "I think I can handle getting my own lunch, Alec."

He shrugged, tossed her a careless look, and started up the stairs. "I'll bring you something anyway."

He was creeping her out.

"It's creeping me out." Max bit her thumb, pacing back and forth on the stained tile floor, "He's being all nice and responsible and not-Alec. Oh God, you don't think it's another clone do you? Like Alec's tied up somewhere and this 495 or 496 is trying to replace him, that's not possible right?" In the back of her mind, Max recognized that she wasn't sounding all that like herself either, but Alec's behavior really was unnerving her.

"Alec still Alec," Joshua said, calmly continuing to paint his mural, "Alec just came to a decision."

"Decision about what? How to drive me mad in the least amount of time? 'Cause its working." She paused in her pacing, crossing her arms to regard the large man. "That looks really good, big fella."

"Thank you," he replied, and gave her one of those piercing looks that surprised her every time, "Alec made up his mind to woo Max."

"Woo?" she echoed.

"Alec and Max gettin' busy, that Alec's plan."

Max was pretty sure she had a response to that. "That's crazy, and never going to happen. I think you've been inhaling too many paint fumes, big fella."

Joshua gave her a doggy smile, "Joshua right."

"Joshua wrong."

He shrugged, the cat-like movement picked up from Alec, "Whatever lil' fella says."

"I say no wooing."

Absolutely none. So when she came back to her office to find Alec scarfing down a sandwich while he looked through her papers, again, she swiftly put all thoughts of wooing out of her mind.

"I got you one too," he told her, mouth still full.

Max let loose a little noise of disgust at the sight. Joshua was so wrong, that proved it. Logan had never spoken with his mouth full or looked through her private documents when she was in the room. And Max was pretty secure in her conclusion until her eyes landed on a little bouquet of wildflowers that rested by her own sandwich.

"Are you wooing me?" she blurted out, turning horrified eyes on him.

Alec choked, "What?"

She waved the flowers in his face. "Are you wooing me?" she repeated, "Joshua said you were."

He swallowed hard. "Joshua's crazy. You're crazy. Lena gave them to me with the sandwiches and I had no use for flowers, I mean, I'm a guy, and I thought, hey, Max is a girl, maybe she'd like them…" he trailed off, looking at her wide-eyed.

Max knew her expression was suspicious, but she decided to let him off the hook. "All right, I believe you."

He let out a breath of relief, "Okay, now that the painfully awkward conversation is out of the way, I'm going to let you eat your sandwich in peace." He hopped off the desk and headed out the door. She would have let him go too, if it weren't for the tell-tale blush on his cheeks when he risked a peek back.

"You are!" she exclaimed, grabbing his jacket.

"I am not," he protested, ripping out of her grasp.

Max laughed and darted in front of him, "You're trying to woo me."

"I don't woo," he said, and suddenly the embarrassment was gone and he got up in her face, green eyes glinting and mouth smirking, "I seduce."

"Uh-huh," she smirked back, hands on her hips, "You're not gonna seduce me, Alec."

"We'll see." He moved a little closer, eyes going liquid, and Max wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. If she pushed him, it would make him think he was getting to her, so she stayed where she was, but he was way too close, breathing her air and looking at her. She could feel his eyes on her and she finally looked up.

"What?" she said crossly.

"You're pulse is going pretty fast for someone who's not going to be seduced," he observed, head tilting downward. She refused to back down, lifting her chin up a little more in defiance. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw his arms come around to trap her against the railing.

And then they were falling. They landed with an 'oomph' on the ground below, ignoring their fellow transgenics sounds of concern. Max propped herself up on Alec chest, wondering how he had landed on the bottom. "Nice repair job there, Mr. Seduction."

His eyes cracked open and he levered his body up, supported by his elbows. "You totally fell for me."

Max just rolled her eyes as his grin widened.

**Name **

The stopover was necessary. The car he had boosted was out of gas and he needed to stock up on food stuffs, maybe find a bar and a pretty girl for the night. Getting out of Dodge could wait until morning. 494 was looking forward to Canada, he was looking forward to a lack of responsibilities and sleeping in and freedom.

Manticore was gone and he belonged to no one but himself now.

So he couldn't figure out why the hell the look in Max's eyes when she told him not to come back was lingering in his brain. He didn't owe her anything…besides a whole lot of money, which he would repay. He'd get himself a nice set-up in Toronto and wire the money back, easy as sin.

494 found himself wandering toward an almost deserted park instead of the flashing lights of the bar down the street. The sun was setting, staining the sky red and highlighting the strange scene taking place in a small wooded area.

Three people were gathered at the base of one of the stunted trees and a fourth stood off to the side. He found himself meandering closer, stopping beside the teenage boy. Probably the same age as Bullet, 494 estimated. "What's going on?"

The boy scoffed, "Funeral."

494 looked quickly, wondering how he had missed a funeral. But there, in the ground, was a small hole, and the little girl was crying while an older girl held her hand and looked sympathetic. Sister, he decided, the woman obviously their mother and her resemblance to the teen indicated he was a brother. "Huh."

"It's stupid," the boy said, scuffling his feet, "She knew the dumb rabbit was going to die anyway."

"They're giving a rabbit a funeral?" Ordinaries were so weird.

"Susie found it here a few days ago, looked like it had a run in with a snare and a BB gun." He shook his head, "But she insisted Mom try and fix it." The boy cocked his head at 494, "Mom's a vet."

He wasn't sure what his response to this sudden insight into the kid's life was supposed to be. "Ah," he offered feebly.

"She named it Roger."

"Roger?" Interesting choice.

"After some pre-pulse movie Jenna let her watch," the boy nodded at the sister, "Naming them's always a mistake."

There was something in his voice that made 494 look at him more closely, something like regret. "Why?"

"When you name something, you get attached to it." He shrugged, "Mom told her not to get her hopes up, but she's six, you know, can't help it."

Experience, 494 decided, that was the edge in the boy's tone. "We all have to learn somehow," he finally said.

"Yeah."

"Jake!" The call came from the mother, who was eyeing 494 warily, and he sent her a reassuring grin and she relaxed. Women were so easy, like he couldn't snap the boy's neck in less then a second and take out the rest of the family before she could scream. "Time to go."

"Coming." The boy, Jake, gave 494 a departing nod and trotted to catch up to his family, sweeping little Susie up into his arms. 494 figured he was trying to comfort her if the way she rubbed away her tears was any indication.

Attached. Huh. Max had named him, had insisted upon it. Insisted that every X should have a name, a human identity, something that made them an individual, even as she said they were all family and should stick together. Everyone but him, who she had ordered away. Alone. But she had saved his life, sacrificed her own happiness for him when she could have let him die.

She'd learned the lesson, he realized, but still couldn't resist giving him a name. Couldn't resist making him real. And that was the kicker, because by giving him an identity she had made him hers.

Alec sighed, glanced regretfully at the beckoning bar and all the alcohol and potential blondes inside it, and bid a fond adieu to the Canadian border. He'd gas up and head back to Seattle tonight. After all, he didn't want Max to miss her Smart Alec for too long.

**Open **

They still hadn't discussed that night. Alec leaned over the pool table, lining up a shot, feeling her eyes on him like a brand. His darted upward, watching her as he made his move, as her eyes darkened and she wet her lips. The eight ball rolled smoothly into the corner pocket and he smirked.

"Dude!" Sketchy exclaimed, "Double or nothing?"

"Sorry, Sketch, I just wouldn't feel right taking the rest of your paychecks from here until eternity."

"Boo, listen to the man," Original Cindy interjected, bringing a pitcher to their table, "Don't know why you always actin' the fool when you know Alec's always gonna win."

"I believe in Lady Luck, OC. One day…"

"Uh-huh. Well, I think I spy my Lady Luck over there. 'Scuse a sister." And then she was gone, leaving her three co-workers to stare after her.

"She gets more honey than I do," Alec stated wonderingly, ignoring the look Max shot him.

"It's a sad state of affairs, my friend," Sketchy commiserated. "Hey!" He perked up. "Think you can score us those two blondes by the bar?"

Alec ran an appraising eye over the ladies in question. One was a petite strawberry blonde and the other was a tall platinum, quite obviously a bleach job. Two pick-up lines and a smile and he could walk out the door with both of them. He met Max's eyes, her eyebrows rose challengingly, and spoke to Sketchy. "Not tonight."

"C'mon, man, don't leave a guy hanging…" the lanky man whined.

"I'm just not in the mood, but you're welcome to try your luck."

"I don't know, man…

"Seriously, Sketch." Alec glanced at the girls again, "Go for the natural blonde; buy her a drink, look deep into her eyes, and use the star thief line."

"Okay," he was nodding. He took a sip of beer and walked toward the little blonde.

"Star thief?" Max mused, handing him a beer with one of those hesitant smiles she'd been using so much recently.

"It's a classic."

"Think it'll work?"

Alec shrugged, "He'll crash and burn." He met her gaze. "Where's your beer?"

"Not in the mood at the moment." They sat in silence for awhile, him sipping his beer and her gazing at the green felt of the pool table, before Max said abruptly, "We need to talk."

"Yeah."

"We had sex."

"Yeah."

"Is that it? Yeah?"

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, taking another sip.

"I don't know," she hissed, "But something other than 'yeah'."

"Okay." Alec took a deep breath. "The sex was good. Great, in fact, and I'm glad it happened as you seem less inclined to hit me now, but I think that's also because you're afraid to touch me."

Max blinked and then scowled, "I am not afraid to touch you."

"Max, you haven't laid a hand on me in a week."

"That's not true, I-"

"Yes, it is. All you do is watch me now. I'm complaining, by the way, about the not-touching. I don't mind the staring and the not-hitting, but at least when you smacked me I knew you were upset, annoyed, exasperated, pick your synonym, but I knew what you were thinking. Now," he met her gaze, "I can't always read your eyes, Max. Sometimes you put on that mask you say you left behind ten years ago, and even I can't tell what's going on in your head."

"Like you ever know what I'm thinking," she scoffed.

Alec smiled, but judging by her scowl, it came out as more of a smirk. He set the mug down on the cluttered table and cupped her cheek. Her eyes widened, half-hopeful and half-panicked. "Right now you're telling yourself that there's no way I know you like that, and you're calling me an ass, and you're wondering if I'm going to kiss you like I did last Saturday." He paused, letting her absorb his words, and tilted her chin. "Just so _you_ know, I am."

It wasn't exactly like their first kiss. In fact, it wasn't anything like their first kiss. That one had been the product of an argument and had been messy, with teeth knocking and tongues dueling in an angry fight for dominance. This one was easy. It was just a soft brush of his lips over hers, a quick nip on her full bottom lip so that her mouth gasped open and his tongue slipped in, delving into her until she started kissing back.

He took control of the kiss because she let him, and because he wanted to prove to her that he knew exactly what she needed and wanted and hoped for, and that he would make sure she got all of it and more.

"I know you, Maxie," he told her, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "I know you don't know what you want." Alec read the protest in her eyes. "It's okay. You want someone to talk to? I'm here. You want sex? Count me in." He smiled when she gave his arm a soft punch. "And when you're ready to open your eyes and face reality? I'm the guy you're going to end up with."

"Alec…"

"Tell me my eyes are deceivin' me." OC's demand broke the bubble and all the sights, smells, and sounds of Crash came rushing back. "Tell me you did not just kiss hot boy!"

Hot boy?" Alec repeated, but OC was ignoring him.

"Boo?"

"I…he…well…"

"I kissed her."

"Original Cindy saw _that_, what I want to know is why she was kissing you back."

"We had sex," Max blurted out.

"What?!"

"Dude!" Sketchy was suddenly by his side, patting him on the back, "That's awesome."

"Last week," Max continued. Alec and Cindy were both just staring at her, jaws on the floor, and then Alec felt himself grinning.

"So, it didn't work," Sketchy said.

"What?" he asked, distracted by his friend's babbling.

"The line, the girls… I struck out."

He couldn't concentrate on what the girls were whispering about. "Maybe you didn't do it right?" he offered.

"I never do it right," Sketchy said, grabbing Alec's half-full glass and draining it, "That's why I need you there, man."

"I was a little busy." He gestured to the two women who were now looking at him. Cindy was glaring, but Max's expression was curious. "What?"

"How does this line thing work exactly?" Max inquired, and Alec thought he heard a tinge of flirtation in her voice. His eyes narrowed as he studied her face, but it was OC's disgusted 'harrumph' and her excuse to leave the table for her Lady Luck's side that had Alec realizing that Max actually was flirting. With him.

"Sketchy," he said, eyes never leaving Max's, "I think you need to be someplace else." He took out his wallet and handed the other man a twenty, "Go play winner."

Sketchy stared at the bill in his hand and then at Alec, who was still looking at Max. "Oh. Right. I gotcha. I'll just see you two tomor-"

"Sketch," his voice took on an edge.

"Bye." And the messenger hot-footed it five feet over to where a new game of billiards was starting.

"I know what I want."

She wanted to be like other girls, hoped for the fairytale ending, and needed him to give that to her. So Alec grinned, like he did with any other girl he was trying to pick up in a bar, and got her a drink. Max's hand curled around the mug's handle and she smiled at him over the rim as she took a taste of the now warm alcohol.

"Was your father a thief?"

She tilted her head, brown eyes speculating, "Why?"

"Because I think he stole the stars and put them in your eyes."

Max giggled, honest to goodness, _giggled_. "I don't think I have a father. I was actually created by geneticists in a lab to be the perfect soldier."

"What a coincidence!" Alec mock-exclaimed in mock-surprise, "Me, too. You know, we have so much in common."

"We really do," Max agreed, still smiling, "We should go find someplace quiet to _talk_."

"Count me in, my place or yours."

"Yours." Max stood, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the exit. "I like the way your sheets smell."

"Maxie…" He pulled her to a stop as they got out the door. She looked at him, eyes laughing and cheeks flushed and he wanted her just as badly as he had last Saturday, and the Saturday before that and the one before that, and he'd probably want her more next Saturday… "Maxie, you sure about this?"

She kissed him this time, hard and fast, and she was smiling as he searched her face for a clue as to whether she really felt about him the way he felt about her. "My eyes are open, Alec."

He sighed then smirked. "Make sure they stay that way." And he tugged her toward their bikes.

**Promise**

Logan was watching Alec, and Alec was watching Max. Alec was always watching Max. It was something the hacker had noticed since the beginning, had been what made the thought of the two transgenics as a couple so believable.

Although, in the beginning, Logan was pretty sure Alec tracked her movements to figure out how to function outside of Manticore. He was a solo operative, a chameleon, able to adapt to situations he'd been trained for. Able to become someone else once a template was provided.

When Manticore burned Alec had no template. What he had was Max, and so he did with that what he could. Unfortunately for Logan, that resulted in Alec's presence more often than not and forced Eyes Only to watch helplessly as the other man stared after Max.

After awhile he had noticed the green gaze change from studious observation to a mixture of frustration and want that he knew was in his own eyes these days. The difference between the two of them was that Logan could look all he wanted, and Max could look back, but they couldn't touch. Alec could look as well, and even touch, but Max didn't look back.

That morning he had seen the two of them together had been like a knife in his heart, because Max was, if only for the moment, looking back at Alec.

When she'd told him it had all been a lie he felt like he could breathe again. All of Alec's smug grins and wandering hands couldn't be taken back, but at least they could be stopped. Except they didn't, and Alec kept watching her with those unsettling cat eyes of his.

He'd expected Max to yell and brood and complain about Alec's teasing as she had before, but she hadn't.

And then she'd started looking back more and more.

So Logan was watching Alec with hard eyes right now, and Alec couldn't take his eyes off Max. Max, who was wearing a little black dress because she didn't do white or ball gowns or anything traditional. Max, who couldn't stop smiling as she gazed back at Alec.

There was no priest or rabbi or religious figure, just a bunch of their friends and those they considered family. Logan hung back, in the outer ring of the circle surrounding them, and listened to them exchange vows. Words of promise filled with caustic humor and affection that were just so Max and Alec that it made him close his eyes.

Logan stopped looking at their clasped bare hands, stopped looking at Max's smile, and stopped watching Alec watch Max.

**TBC…**


	5. QRS

Thanks everyone for your reviews, I love them! I didn't realize it had been almost a month since my last post. Whoops! The good news is this fic will be finished before the New Year, just two more posts to go.

Ratings: Q-M, R-T+, S-K

AN: 'S' is in response to CC's Sunday Mornings challenge; "the simplest challenge ever." Hopefully it's up to snuff.

**Quarantine **

Max stared at Logan's body through the hospital window. The CDC had cordoned off the hallway where his room was located and Max had had to sneak in from the roof. She wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but Logan was dead, and it was her fault, and laughing wouldn't be appropriate.

"Well, he looks like hell."

"Shut up," she snapped, not looking behind her. But he came closer, despite the 'back off' vibe she was exuding, and her breath caught at his nearness. The scent and energy that was _Alec_ such a vivid contrast to the still coldness that was Logan. "Why are you here? I don't want you here."

"We gotta go, Max."

She shook her head, dark hair falling over her shoulders, and didn't look away from the man she had murdered. "I killed him."

"Yeah." She did turn at that, staring at him wide-eyed in astonishment. "What? You want me to lie to you?" he asked, voice gathering heat, "I'm not going to do that Max. I'm going to say I told you so. You and he have been prancing around like you're untouchable, pardon the phrasing, it was bound to happen eventually."

"You ass-"

"Oh, so I'm the bad guy? I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"He was your friend-"

"No," Alec interrupted her again, eyes gone cold even as his voice gained even more warmth, "We weren't friends. I thought he was a spoiled rich kid who liked to slum it occasionally to make himself feel better about being privileged. I thought he was a user Max, keeping you co-dependent and on a roller coaster ride of guilt and affection. And just when I thought maybe, maybe I could learn to tolerate the guy, you pull me into your little love-fest to be the big bad jerk and that's that, Max. Logan and I were never friends, and you need to stop living in your fantasy world where everything's going to come up roses in the end."

She gaped at him, mind reeling and wanting to lash out. So she did, she slapped him. Hard. Across the face. And he didn't flinch, didn't give a millimeter, just glared at her with those icy green eyes of his, and then he hit her back. Max let out a cry as she slammed into the door that kept Logan isolated. The power behind the backhand shouldn't have been unexpected, but as she held a hand gingerly to her mouth, coming away with droplets of blood, she was surprised. "You hit me."

"Ditto."

"I'm not leaving him."

"He's dead Max, and if we don't get out of here, we're gonna end up the same way."

"I can't go back to TC, not like this. They shouldn't see me like this." She knew she was feeling helpless and hopeless, and as a leader she couldn't expose her people to those emotions. Couldn't let them affect the progress they were making.

"We're not going to TC, we're heading for Mexico."

"What?"

"I gave the order to scatter and implement escape and evade. Most of the X-series will probably head for populated cities, but the transhumans will head underground. White's going to expect us to head for Canada, they're offering sanctuary, so we're going in the opposite direction." Alec announced this matter-of-factly, flipping one of the quarantine curtains back and peering down the long hallway.

"You ordered…" she trailed off, "That was our home, Alec."

"No," he glanced back at her, reaching out to grab her arm, "You burned our home to the ground, that was a cage with bars you painted gold in the belief that ordinaries would accept us. That was a gigantic target filled with people pretending to be normal and mundane. We're not normal Max, and most of us don't want to be."

Max tore away from his grasp, "Joshua-"

"Went without a protest. He understood it was a losing battle, why won't you?"

She could only shake her head, not understanding how everything was crumbling down around her. "I-I…"

"We're leaving now."

"Then go," she hissed, suddenly back to anger, "Just go."

"Not without you."

For some reason she found herself surprised again, "Why not?"

He laughed, humorlessly. It was the hollow laugh that had been building in her since she'd realized Logan's glove had had a hole in it and she wasn't wearing any, and that no transgenic help was going to make it past the police barrier in time. Not even Alec, even though she'd called him, panicked and almost sobbing.

"If you haven't figured it out by now, Maxie, you're as blind as everyone says you are."

"You love me," she stated. It felt wrong to say it in this place. This sterile, colorless environment, where the words could hang in the air, growing between them. This place where only a door and bright blue tape separated them from Logan's already decaying corpse.

"Love," he snorted, "Lust. Hate… I don't know what the hell I feel for you, but you're the only thing I've got in this world and I'm not letting you go."

She remembered- Was it only a month ago? -finding him trying desperately to get drunk and his metabolism not allowing it. Arguing until they hit the sore point, no sex for him being a pretend-boyfriend and all, until he offered the ultimatum of sleeping with him or telling Logan. He hadn't thought she'd pick the former, she'd seen it when she stripped off her shirt and his eyes widened in shock and his angry tirade bit off.

It had been such a painfully pleasurable experience, one she'd erased from existence when she left him sacked out on top of the covers. Max's throat went dry as she remembered the feel of the wall against her cheek, eyes focused on the hand he braced against it, and the way he refused to be gentle. She remembered his order not to look at him as she felt the bulk of him pressed against her back. The whispered words that told her he was ashamed of himself and ashamed of her. Pathetic, he'd said, that she'd let a man she could hardly stand rut into her instead of telling the man she claimed to love the truth.

Max had felt anger and shame after. After she was done reveling in the feeling of touching and _being_ touched. After she'd come apart in his arms crying and begging him not to let her go. I won't, he'd said, damnit, I can't. She remembered the strange combination of wistfulness and bitterness in those words, of wanting to look at him and being unable to.

She hadn't been able to look at Logan for a week. She hadn't been able to look at Alec for a month. And now here he was, vibrating intensity and impatience and when he took her hand she followed after him with just a quick look back, watching Logan's form get smaller and smaller. She didn't say good-bye, didn't apologize…he wouldn't hear her.

The stairwell wasn't quiet. Max and Alec froze, listening to the murmur of voices a few floors down and the cocking of firearms. They didn't need to talk, simply headed to the roof at a faster pace, footfalls soft and cat-sure. Their descent from the building was not as graceful, shimmying down a drainpipe never was, but it got them on the ground and able to find cover.

It wasn't until they rounded a corner to see one of White's sycophant's levering a gun on them that Max realized Alec had one of his own. And it wasn't until the agent was lying dead on the ground, blood pooling from a headshot, that Max realized Alec was willing to use it.

"You killed him," she whispered, letting him pull her down alleyways and side streets without protest.

"Yeah," he agreed easily. At her sputtering he stopped, looking at her with serious eyes she didn't recognize on his face. "I'm an assassin, Max, just because you like to forget that little fact doesn't mean I can." She nodded feebly, not liking how meek she was being, but she'd never seen the side of Alec he was showing her today and she wasn't sure she liked it or what it did to her. He looked at her hard another moment and then continued dragging her throughout Seattle.

Just outside of Terminal City she regained a bit of her sanity and pulled away. "I need to get some stuff."

Alec shook his head, "Max, we'll get what we need on the go. We have to leave now; White's not going to wait around the hospital for long."

"I should call OC."

"I already called Jam Pony before I ditched the cell, left a message with Normal to tell Cindy and Sketch good-bye and we'll miss them."

"But-"

"We're wasting time."

"What if no one else left?"

"Max-"

"I have to see!"

He gave in, following along behind her as they snuck through the fence. She could feel his tension surrounding her and let it hurry her steps. This Alec wasn't one for concessions, and she knew she wouldn't be able to push him far.

The streets of TC were deserted and Max found herself walking them in a sort of disbelief. That everything she had wanted and worked so hard for had disappeared in an afternoon was almost inconceivable. They ducked into HQ and Max was abruptly shoved back, Alec in front of her, gun up. She peered over her shoulder to see Dix and Luke, weapons trained on them, before the transhumans laughed and lowered their shotguns. Alec lowered his slowly, still on edge, and Max pushed past him.

"You're still here?" she asked.

"Don't really know where else to go," Dix said, "There're a couple others coming up from Birch, but most scattered as soon as Alec gave the order." He gave Alec a nod of acknowledgement. "You staying?"

"No." Alec said it before she could respond, his tone brooking no argument. Max glared at him and he gazed back, impassive. "In fact, we're leaving now." He looked at the other two. "You really should do the same."

She could have refused, part of her wanted to, but she found herself trailing him to the cache of vehicles instead. Max hitched herself into the passenger seat of the old blue Chevelle he'd started, noted the gas gauge was on 'Full', and found herself leaving the one place she'd ever stayed in for more than two years. Logan was gone, OC was gone, Joshua was gone, her home was gone…her life was gone. Max felt that laugh building up again and she let it out. It was better than crying. Alec didn't even look away from the road at the sound.

The road to Mexico was mostly silent. They didn't turn on the radio, rarely talked, and hardly ever exchanged glances. He stole food when they were hunger. When they ran out of gas and had to lift a new ride, one did the dirty work and the other kept watch. She drove when he needed sleep. It took them two days to reach El Paso and then they holed up in a rundown motel to plan the best way to sneak over the border without getting caught and shot at.

Alec turned on the television after their meager dinner of stolen subs and tap water. "Max." The grimness in his tone froze her and she found herself moving mechanically from the bathroom to sit beside him on the bed.

The perky reporter was trying to put on her sympathetic face as she told of the horrible bombings and the screen flashed pictures of Seattle in ruin. Tears streamed down her cheek's and Max let out a little cry at the thought of all their friends…of their home…gone for good. She was in Alec's arms before she could think about it, dimly recognizing that this was a bad idea and that the TV was still humming in the background.

But he was alive and she needed to feel him.

Afterward, there was always an afterward, Max watched the news broadcast on every channel with her knees pulled up to her chin. Alec was asleep beside her, sprawled out beneath the covers, one hand wrapped loosely around her ankle. Tethered, she thought, he was keeping her tied to him. She pressed a hand to her mouth to prevent the release of one of those laughs that weren't laughs. And he'd called her and Logan co-dependent.

He'd been right about one thing though. Love, lust, hate…however she felt about him…he was all she had left in this world and she wasn't going to let him go.

**Rune**

It was mid-morning, and soft sunlight filtered through broken, dirty windows, illuminating the dust motes floating through the stale air. The sound of hard breathing and grunts filled the room, and Alec stared down at Max, wriggling beneath him. "Just say 'give'," he coaxed.

"Bite me," she hissed, struggling against the hold he had her tangled in.

"Well," he grinned, "If you insist…"

Max relaxed her body as he trailed off, glaring up at him. "You are such a pig." Alec's grin widened and she felt him let up a bit as he sensed her body relent. That was always his mistake, and she flipped their places. "A pig who lets his guard down."

Alec groaned, "I'm such a sucker for a pretty face." And then he turned his attention back to her, bucking upward and leering, "I always knew you'd want to be on top, Maxie." He kept his smirk as she ground him into the mat, his expression indicating that he didn't have the least little problem with their current position.

She made a small sound of disgust and released him, standing and offering a hand in assistance. Alec took it, stretching his muscles as he stood, and walked the few feet to the mat's edge to grab a water bottle. He gave it to her, the first sip a gesture of goodwill in their ongoing battle to be named Snarkiest Transgenic in Terminal City. She was winning, no contest, but he liked to give her an opponent to rail against. "Truce?"

"For now." She took a swig of water and passed the bottle back to him, stretching her arms outward. "Good match."

"You're just saying that 'cuz you won," Alec grumbled.

She smiled at him, a happy free smile that he knew would disappear as soon as they left the room, and so he smiled back, enjoying it while he could. They'd gone from a friendly match once a week to Max dragging him off at least three days out of seven, her body language tense and expression thunderous. He was worried. "Max…"

"I'm fine, Alec."

"I'm well aware of that, Max, but are you all right?"

She gaped at him, watching the lascivious smirk spread into a full grin, and tried to prevent an answering one cross her face. "I'm always all right," she finally said, borrowing his favorite phrase.

"Aw, see, now I know you're not okay and I'm gonna have to push," he said, making sure to keep his tone teasing.

Max shrugged, she'd been feeling so wound up these past few weeks and Alec was the only one she could trust to let her smack him around until she felt better. And he didn't ask too many questions, just made smart remarks and kept her smiling. He was such a good friend. "I'm just a little frustrated." She ran a hand through her hair, holding the sweat-soaked mass off her neck in an attempt to cool down.

"Whoa." Alec lifted the bottle from his lips and stared at her.

"What?"

"You've got…" He moved toward her, eyes focused on her neck. "That's a rune," he informed her, fingers brushing the skin below her right ear. "Mind," he murmured, "That's a new one."

Damn it. She let go of her hair and Alec took his hand away, shaking off the sweat. "It's just one," she said, not liking the reproving look he was giving her.

"Just one?" She averted her eyes and Alec swore. "Max!"

She scowled at the faded blue mat her bare feet were resting on. "Okay, so a few have cropped up, but they aren't lines of prophecy or anything, they're just single characters."

"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded.

She shrugged again, "We broke a water main, and then the food spoiled, and those four X-5s all went into labor at the same time, and Sevrin got attacked…It just never seemed like the right time." Max bit her lip, looking at him through her lashes to judge how mad he was.

He stared at her, inscrutable. "Let me see," he finally demanded.

"What? No."

"Max, I've been studying the language. If it's not something important than we won't bother the researchers, but if it's big, we're gonna have to take some pictures and let them have a crack at 'em."

"They aren't a big deal," she protested, but he had that resolute expression on his face. The one that said she wasn't arguing or punching her way out of this, the one he had only ever used twice before. "Fine," she finally assented, ripping of her shirt, "So you've been studying Ancient Minoan?"

Alec gave a little grin, his eyes already on the black symbol that had shown up on her chest last week. "I know enough to get by, figured it might come in handy, what with being the language of choice for the Evil Snake Apocalypse cult." He capped the water bottle, tossing it to the floor and moving closer. "How many?"

"Just five."

"Okay, so the first one says 'mind', that's pretty simple." He touched it again, fingers lingering on her jaw line before pressing them to the second mark. "Heart."

"Hands!" Max pulled back, crossing her arms over her bra.

"Sorry," he grinned, obviously not sorry.

"Liar."

"So sue me," he gestured for her to move back to him, "C'mere."

"Just watch the hands," she warned, stepping into his space again. It hadn't been so much the touching, his hands hadn't really wandered, but it had been the _touching_. The feel of long fingers and blunt nails brushing over skin that a man hadn't looked at in over a year. It had felt too much like a caress and she hadn't liked that she had closed her eyes at the feeling.

"Okay, so where's lucky number three?"

Shit. "Don't laugh," she warned, hooking her fingers into the waistband of her loose sweats and pushing them down. She stepped away, trying to fight a blush, and turned around. She'd seen it in the mirror one day; instead of the collection of runes along her backbone and shoulder blades, there was just one, resting at the base of her spine.

Alec let out a chuckle and Max shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Sorry, Maxie, I just find it funny that Sandeman programmed a tramp stamp into your DNA."

"Alec!"

"Sorry, seriously." Even though he was so visibly _not_ sorry or serious. "Let's get a look." He knelt down, and again, Max felt her eyes close involuntarily at the feel of his fingers on her skin. He was so warm, his touch whisper-light… "Body," he announced, and then chuckled, "So far it just looks like a really complicated labeling system."

"Funny." She turned, and his hands, which had been drifting over her lower back, traced her skin until they rested on her abdomen. Max pretended she didn't hear his slight intake of breath and hoped he'd pretend he hadn't heard hers. "How about that one?" It stood out starkly beneath her belly button.

"Life," he whispered. Alec's eyes shot up to hers and he tried to offer up another smile. "I guess that ones pretty self-explanatory. The fifth?"

Max rolled her eyes, and she cursed herself for blushing. "Down."

"Down?"

He said it like the direction was incomprehensible and Max grimaced, taking one of his hands and moving it lower. His fingers caught on her panties and she bit back a moan, dragging the hand a little farther until it gripped her upper thigh, thumb resting on the edge of a thin dark line. "Down," she confirmed.

"Right." His voice was husky and Alec mentally shook himself, clearing his throat as Max released her hold on him. "Um, can you…?" She complied without him having to actually say it, widening her legs until he could see the entirety of the rune. He frowned, leaning closer, tracing each line compiling it with a finger. "I'm not sure…I think it might be spirit, or soul…I don't-" He broke off, suddenly aware of the musky scent of her; something lush, almost tropical. "You're wet," he said, incredulous, and he tilted his head upward.

"Alec," she pleaded hoarsely, not sure what she was asking for, but the surprised delight in his hazel eyes made her body tighten.

"You're wet for _me_," he clarified, and the awe in his voice proved to be her undoing. She clutched at his shoulders, whether to push him away or pull him closer, she didn't know, but he had already moved.

His hand on her trembled and he took it away, leaning his nose against the spot, enjoying the softness of the skin. He breathed in the scent of her again, a sort of dark, masculine satisfaction rushing through him that he hadn't felt before. He pressed a kiss to that tract of skin, and felt her knees buckle. She gasped, "Alec!" and he caught her, easing her down onto the mat and rising over her until he could look her in the eyes.

"Max?" Her liquid brown eyes darted to his, embarrassment and desire mixed within their depths and her brushed a hand over her cheekbone, feeling the warmth of her blush. Max blushing, it was such a hard concept to get, but not as difficult as the notion that _he_ was the one causing that rosy glow beneath her skin. "I think I figured out the problem."

"With the runes?" she asked, her tone biting and he took it as a sign of her discomfort.

"I think your body's out of alignment and the runes appeared as a kind of indicator."

"Indicators? There's nothing wrong with me," she declared.

"Max, I don't know if you've noticed this, but we've been in this room a lot the past couple of weeks."

"So?" She tilted her chin defiantly.

"So, as much as I enjoy letting you face-plant me on a semiweekly basis and demanding spontaneous massages from me ever so often, I think you need to admit you're physically frustrated." He said it as gently as possible, he didn't want her thinking that the affects her lack of intimate contact had were obvious to the world.

"I'm not-"

"Max," he put in, "you're striking out at everyone around you and it's not good for morale. As your SIC, I feel obligated to tell you that you need to get laid." He saw the outrage bloom on her face and kissed her before she could explode. Her lips were slightly chapped, and she tasted like macaroni and cheese, but Alec thought it just might be the best kiss he'd ever participated in. "You _need_ to be _touched_. As your friend," he murmured, watching her eyes flutter open, "I'm offering my help."

"I'm not a charity case." His eyes darkened to a deep forest green and she felt his full weight drop onto her. Max's moan escaped this time, and she arched up into the hardness of him, craving him so much at that moment that she wanted to scream.

Alec dropped a kiss onto her neck, licking the salty taste of sweat from her skin and smiled as she purred, her arms coming up to grip his hair. "Believe me, Maxie, this'll be my pleasure."

**Sunday **

Max absolutely loathed Sunday mornings.

When 8 am hit she would leave HQ after her duty shift and it would immediately start pouring. Every Sunday, without fail, it rained in Seattle. She dreaded it.

She'd get back to the apartment she had been forced to share with Alec completely drenched to find him in their breakfast nook, chowing down on sugary cereal or burnt scrambled eggs he'd somehow acquired. She'd scowl and he'd smirk at her, or offer her a shit-eating grin that would make her wince because he still hadn't finished chewing his last bite, and she'd disappear into the bathroom.

The shower water was always too hot, and she savored it after the cold bite of wind and rain that stung her face on her blur back to the place she called home. She would stay in the shower until the spray of water started losing its warmth and then she would slink out into a towel and stalk next door to her bedroom.

She'd gotten the room with the fire escape outside the window, although on Sundays, that agreeable fact never mattered. There was no solace to be found sitting on a roof in the middle of a rainstorm. On Sundays, instead, she shoved her legs into a comfy pair of jeans and an old hoodie before going out to the living room.

In said living room, Alec would be sprawled on their lumpy couch in a T-shirt, sweatpants, and no socks. He wouldn't shower or dress all day, and she would have to deal with his slept-in clothes, the musky Alec scent, and the bed head, until twelve hours later when she left for patrol.

She's perch on the one couch cushion his feet weren't touching and resign herself to whatever movies he'd picked this week.

Today he'd started with 'Sleepless in Seattle'.

He thought he was _so_ funny.

Alec absolutely loved Sunday mornings.

When 7:45 am hit he would awaken to the sound of raindrops pattering gently above him. He had gotten the room with the skylight, and he enjoyed the sensation of soft morning light waking him slowly, but he always looked forward to Sundays. Every Sunday, without fail, it rained in Seattle.

He'd contemplate staying in bed, warm and snug under the covers while watching the patterns of water on the glass above him, but the rumbling in his stomach invariably led him out of his bed, away from his room, and into the kitchenette. Sunday morning breakfast was a treat. Every other day of the week he'd eat in the mess hall with his fellow transgenics before getting down to work, but Sundays were his day off. Sundays were for oatmeal, scrambled eggs, cereal, contraband bacon, and the occasional S'mores pop tart.

The door to the apartment he'd generously agreed to share with Max would open at 8:15am to reveal his erstwhile CO looking like a drowned kitten. The sight always made him smile, which in turn, caused her to glare as she locked herself into the bathroom. He'd then enjoy his breakfast in quiet, the sound of rain on the roof and the knowledge that Max was safe at home lending him a feeling of peace while he did the dishes she insisted he not leave in the sink.

He'd settle down on the couch in the living room, a lumpy thing he had found dumpster diving, but suitable for the lazy Sunday movie marathons he liked to indulge in. The order of the movies was always predetermined, so that he was equipped to deal with his roommate's quirks. He'd start the first when he heard her slide her jeans on, a sound he was attuned to for reasons he would never think about, and then he'd get comfortable. Max always settled primly at the end of the couch, always muttered a comment about his lack of hygiene that he always ignored. Seriously, it was Sunday, and she'd used up all the hot water anyway.

In the end she'd drop off into the deep sleep she proclaimed she never needed and he'd watch her settle, curling her feet beneath her body and almost purring with contentment.

He'd switch movies to whichever one he'd chosen just for himself and let himself acknowledge that he was happy that Max would rather stay cooped up with him for twelve hours than go off and visit the people she deemed her real friends. It always made him a little smug…at least until she stretched out and he was forced to contort his body to accommodate her abnormally large feet and long legs. Then he thought about retribution.

When she woke up, he was so making her watch '10 Things I Hate About You."

He smirked. He was _so_ funny.

* * *

AN2: So I was thinking about it, and I thought it would be fun if other people joined in this little alphabet game of mine. Everyone has a different writing style, and I'd love to see what other writers would do with the same prompts. So, if anyone wants to accept the challenge, go for it! I promise to read and review (even though I'm not the best at the second). 


	6. TUV

Rating: T-K, U-K, V-K+

Thanks to mars494, wrenbailey, p3karen, chance32, Hero Lilly, and CandyCentric for the reviews! **CC**, I'm glad you enjoyed Sunday and **wrenbailey**, I'll be looking forward to your version, so post as soon as you can! ; )

AN: Just one more post after this and it'll be over (wow!), so, this is totally off the topic of the ficlets, but I saw P.S. I Love You today (fans of SN's JDM, pay attention), and Jeffrey Dean Morgan was amazing; that man is fine and that Irish accent…insert dreamy sigh here. The movie, overall, was excellent, but he was definitely a highlight. (Oh, and it's a tear-jerker, in a good way.) And now back to your regular scheduled programming:

**Touch **

"What?"

"Doc's found a cure, Max," Logan repeated, excitement coloring his voice.

"How?"

"We'll override my DNA markers with another set. Give the virus a different target."

"Who?"

"Alec volunteered," Logan said, unable to hide the satisfaction he felt.

"Alec," she echoed. Alec volunteered. Alec, who she touched more on a daily basis than she touched anyone else in an entire year. Alec, who touched her more than she allowed anyone else, even against her express permission.

How could he…She needed to be able to smack him when he was being stupid. To be able to lean against him, just a little bit, in a crowded room. She needed his hand squeezing her shoulder for comfort, needed one of his one-armed hugs when she was feeling overwhelmed with the responsibilities of leadership…Needed the brief touch of his lips against her hair when he thought he could get away with it.

"I can't _not_ touch Alec."

"Max." Logan had that tone again, that tone he got when he thought she was being silly and he was in the right, if only she'd listen. "You two hate each other, it should be easy."

She stared at him, this man she was supposed to be in love with, who she shouldn't be able to live without seeing, touching, kissing… "Hate?" she asked incredulously, "Where have you been the past eight months?"

"What?" It was his turn to question, the blue eyes confused behind his lenses. She continued looking at him, mouth open, and then her eyes darted to the vial he was holding out. Alec had already donated his DNA. Had _volunteered_…

And suddenly she was angry. So very angry at the green-eyed X-5. How _dare_ he?! "No." She snatched the vial from Logan's gloved hand, smashing it upon the floor. "No."

Max blurred all the way from the infirmary to Command, heart racing, and when she burst in through the double doors, he was there. Surrounded by transgenics and transhumans, laughing, swiveling in his chair while everyone around put bets on how long it would be before he got dizzy. They hadn't even noticed her arrival.

"Alec!"

All eyes turned to her as she stalked forward. "Maxie?" He was almost standing when she reached him, alarmed at her attitude. She shoved him back down, pressed against him in an instant, one hand curled over his barcode while the other urged him closer. He complied, unheeding of the crowd, resting his head against her stomach, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, caressing her back where her tank top rode up. Skin to skin.

"You stupid idiot," she whispered, resting her cheek atop his thick blonde hair.

"Max?" He tilted his head upward, eyes wide, as her fingertips traced his cheekbones. She smiled, and then she kissed him.

Because she couldn't not kiss him. She couldn't not touch him. She couldn't live without him. She loved him, stupid idiot that he was.

**Umbrella **

It rained a lot in Seattle. Not that he had anything against rain, it was just an observation. It rained a lot.

Rain, he had discovered, made Max grumpy. Well, grumpier than usual. She hated walking around in wet clothes, hated slipping off her bicycle seat, hated customers who complained about their packages being wet while in the midst of a torrential downpour…

Grumpy Wet Max, he had also observed, tended to snap at him more that Disgruntled Max, Pissed-Off Max, and Bitch Max combined. This took a lot, as she snapped, smacked, and snarled at him on a daily basis with very few breaks.

He had decided to do something about it. Unfortunately, for all his incredible genetically empowered talents, he could not control the weather, and, as he had noted previously, it rained a lot in Seattle. That led his quicksilver brain to his current plan. Turn Grumpy Wet Max into Less Grumpy Not-Wet Max.

"Jam Pony messenger!" he called, knocking on the apartment door.

It swung open to reveal Original Cindy. "Fool, what are you doin'? Don't you know it's me and my boo's day off?"

He kept his bored messenger face on. "Package for Max Guevara. Are you Max Guevara?"

OC crossed her arms, silk robe fluttering. "Alec, honey, what are you playin' at?" He finally let his amusement show, unable to repress his smirk for long, and OC rolled her eyes. "Max!"

"What?" And then Max came strolling through the living room, her loose pajama bottoms and tank a contrast to OC's lingerie. "Alec?" A frown crossed her pretty features and he felt his smirk widen to a grin. "What are you doing here? Are you in trouble? It's my day off. I do not have time to bail you out of whatever stupid situation you've gotten yourself into this time. We're having a girl's day, so unless you're here for Joshua or Logan, you can just turn back around!" She finished her rant in front of him, cheeks slightly flushed, hands on her hips, expression huffy. OC had retreated to her own room by this point. OC was one smart woman.

"Package," he said shortly, "Sign here please." He held out the signature sheet. She was wearing make-up. A dusting of shadow, a hint of gloss, and her hair looked soft and curly. Huh, she really was kinda beautiful when she wasn't yelling, he realized.

"What?" she asked, looking at the roll tube he held in his other hand. She signed the sheet absently and passed it back, her eyes never leaving the delivery. "What is it?" she asked as he traded the clipboard for the tube.

"Open it and see," he suggested, "X-ray vision is not one of my superpowers."

"Shut up." Her glare at his sarcasm did not hold its usual heat, her attention too much on opening the package than on his response. He remained quiet as the note slid out first, fluttering to the ground. She picked it up. "_For a rainy day_," she read wonderingly and tilted the gift from the tube.

A laugh escaped her as she opened the red umbrella, twirling around with it balanced against her shoulder. He wondered whether his heart was supposed to feel like it was stuttering to a stop and refrained from quipping about bad luck and opening umbrellas indoors. This, he recognized, was Just Max, someone he rarely saw.

Her face was soft and glowing when she turned back to the door. She blinked when she saw him there. "Why are you still here?"

His mouth, which had softened into a bona fide smile while she admired his gift, not that she'd ever know it was from him, turned back into a smirk. He held out a hand, "Where's my tip?"

She scoffed, "Go away, Alec." But it lacked bite.

"Sure thing, Maxie." And he saluted, something she didn't see as she turned her concentration back to the present. He let the door shut on Just Max and whistled his way back to his bike, certain he'd be seeing more of her Less Grumpy Not-Wet side.

Even if it did rain a lot in Seattle.

**Vacation **

Alexander wasn't sure what to expect from Dr. Sandeman's so-call "Special One", but it got him out of his Phonological Theory course at university, so he wasn't complaining about the impromptu vacation. A "family" trip, CJ had termed it when he had called them excitedly. Alex looked across the aisle of the doctor's private jet at his unit mates. CeCe was studying the file folder CJ had given them on X5-452 and Biggs was asleep, both typical actions of his fellow X-5s.

"Psst, Biggs."

The dark-haired transgenic jolted, "I wasn't asleep, Professor!"

Alex and CeCe snickered. "And I'm sure Dr. Brown would believe that, man, but school's out for the week. Pass me the snack bag." Biggs shot him a dirty look and chucked a ho-ho at him, which, had Alex not had such cat-like reflexes, would have brained him. "Thanks." He gave his friend a grin and shoved one of the chocolate rolls in his mouth.

"You're welcome. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Unfortunately, Richard, we're just about to land." The three transgenics straightened in their seats as Dr. Sandeman walked back from the cock pit, where he and CJ had been conversing with their pilots about the route and appropriate clearance codes for the spur-of-the-moment flight.

CJ, Sandeman's youngest son, plopped down in the seat next to Alex. "It's raining."

"Yeah," Alex gestured to the open window beside him, "I can see that." Biggs rolled his eyes at the older man, and Alex gave a little smile. Sometimes CJ wasn't completely with it, but Alex always tried to be supportive of the man. He was, after all, somewhat of a genius, just like his eccentric father. "So, what's the plan, Doc?"

"Elizabeth has informed me that a Colonel Donald Lydecker," the soldiers winced, and the good doctor understood their dismay with the man who had once run every hour of their lives, "has made contact with X5-452. I will be relying on you three to track her down so that I may discuss with her, her future."

"Why's she so important, anyway?" Alex asked. 452 was an '09 escapee, he failed to see what could be so special about a deserter.

"Her DNA," CeCe spoke up.

"As always, Cecelia, you have hit the nail on the head," Sandeman beamed at the blonde. "452's DNA is specifically coded against the Ophion plague."

"The Coming," Alex stated.

"Exactly. It is imperative that we begin work on a general serum for the populace as soon as possible. With the Coming looming ever closer, we won't have much time before the need for the vaccine is overwhelming and we must have a product before then."

"So, we're searching through all of Seattle for one girl? Do we even have a Sector to start with?"

"Yes, Richard, you will begin with the Sector the Colonel found her in and work outward from there. A rough composite sketch has been handed out to the law enforcement officers and has been posted at checkpoints. Regrettably, a lot of women are petite, dark-haired, and dark-eyed. That, again, is where you three come in. Have you studied your information?"

"Yes," CeCe perked up, "Although there's not a whole lot here."

Sandeman looked at his other two fosterlings, "Richard? Alexander?" Biggs shrugged and Alex gave a sheepish smile. The doctor sighed, "I expect you to look it over in the car."

"Sure thing, Doc," Alex assured him.

"Doctor's pet," Biggs muttered at CeCe.

"Shut up, Dick," she responded, elbowing him.

"Ow!"

"Oh, like that really hurt-"

"Children, please." They gave Sandeman apologetic looks and leaned back in their seats with a quick glare at each other. Alex grinned, exchanging his own look with CJ, and turned to stare out the window at the city rapidly coming into focus.

The house was a mess. "Oh dear, " Sandeman exclaimed, glancing at the overturned furniture, papers, and books strewn all over the rodent-eaten carpet, "Perhaps I should have kept the housekeeper…"

"We'll make due, Doc," Alex said confidently, "You and CJ take the bedroom; we'll start planning our search out here."

"If you're certain, my boy?" Blue eyes regarded him behind thin wire frames.

"We got it, Doc," Biggs backed him up, "Besides, looks like Ceej needs a nap."

It was true, the older man was falling asleep on his feet. Both Sandemans had been holed up in the south of France while the X-5s were at school in Connecticut and the jet lag was getting to them. "You're right, perhaps just a bit of a lie down and we'll be back up to help get down to business."

"Sounds good Doctor," CeCe said, smiling at the Ordinaries encouragingly, and they picked up their suitcases and headed toward the bedroom.

"Oh," the doctor turned at the door, "Elizabeth should be sending some information through a courier, so don't shoot anyone who knocks on the door." The last was said pointedly to Alex, who nodded his acknowledgment.

"One time," he muttered, "and I was twelve, it's not like I'm ever gonna do it again…" Biggs and CeCe just laughed.

They spread out a map of Seattle on the scratched dining room table and placed green push pins at known sightings and red at potential contact spots, most of which were checkpoints.

"Why would Dr. Renfro send possibly vital data through a courier system," CeCe demanded, after they had been waiting an hour and getting nowhere.

Alex shrugged, studying the picture of 452 a security camera had caught at the convention. "Maybe so that no one gets suspicious? Hide in plain sight?"

"That her?" Biggs snatched the grainy photo out of Alex's hand, "She's hot."

"She's Manticore," CeCe grabbed the snapshot from the dark-haired man.

"Still hot," he said cheekily.

"Guys," Alex broke in, "Can we focus? I figure we'll split up, divide out the sectors and see if we can get a feel for anything-"

The doorbell rang and the transgenics traded surprised expressions that the decrepit thing still worked. A knock followed, hard and repeatedly. "Jam Pony messenger," came the impatient call.

Alex eased out of his rickety chair and sauntered to the door; he opened it and caught the hand that was just about to knock again. A ball cap came up, revealing a startled face. Lips formed an 'O' of surprise and a blush stained sun-kissed cheeks. Alex, heart pounding, didn't let go of the hand he had captured.

The picture hadn't done her justice.

"Sorry," she mumbled, tugging at her hand.

Alex still didn't let go, instead, he used his other hand to keep her trapped. "Not a problem," he smirked.

She stopped trying to pull her hand away and glowered at him. "Can I have my hand back?"

His smirk widened, "What'll you give me for it?"

"Your package?"

"Hmm," he pretended to think it over, "How about your name?"

"How about I don't kick your ass?"

"I love a girl who knows how to barter." He let her go and leaned against the doorframe. "Want to come in? I have ho-hos."

"I was told never to take candy from strangers." She smirked, "Sign here so I can give you your package."

"It's more of a snack cake, really," he said, ignoring the clipboard she had shoved toward him.

"Alex!" came a muffled cry from the dining room. He glanced back to see Biggs gesturing to him, Alex's body blocking 452's face from his friend. "Stop flirting with the courier and bring the data sheets." And then the dark head disappeared out of the hallway and he turned his attention back to 452.

"Alec, was it?" she asked, sounding amused, "That like 'smart aleck'?"

"Alex actually," he corrected, signing the signature sheet, "Like Alexander the Great."

"Right. I'm sure." She handed him the slim parcel and put the clipboard back in her pack. "Do I get a tip for letting you manhandle me?"

"Do I get a phone number?"

She smiled, "1-800-No-Way-In-Hell."

"You wound me." He pressed a hand to his heart, his grin widening. She was something else. "I really thought we had a connection," he continued, "A bond."

"If you consider my hand connecting with your head a bond, I'd be happy to oblige." She cocked a hip to the side and placed a fist on it, "Well?"

Alex dug in his pocket and pulled out a twenty. "How's that?"

"Too much."

"Tell you what," he pressed it into her hand, "I'll let you buy me a drink tonight."

Her chin came up, "What part of 'no way in hell' didn't you understand?"

"You said 'no' to a phone number, not a date."

Those full lips pursed and Alex found himself leaning closer. "You know Crash?"

He didn't let his surprise show on his face, "I'll find it."

452 gave him a once over. "Eight o'clock. If you're late, I'm walking."

"I'll be there."

"Later then, _Alec_." And she spun, striding back down the steps and toward a bike that was lying on the dry grass in the overgrown yard.

"Hey!" he called, and she turned, "Do I get a name?"

"Max!" she called back.

"Max," he repeated as he watched her pedal away. It was different, short and sweet. Packed a punch, just like the woman it identified.

"Man, come on!" Biggs yelled again, CeCe's higher voice echoing the sentiment, "We've got work to do."

Alex smiled and shut the door. "Can't right now, buddy, got to get ready for a date." He tossed the envelope on the table and strode over to his suitcase to find a change of clothes. It was six now, and he still had to find that Crash place she had mentioned.

"Seriously?" CeCe asked, "We've been here an hour and a half and you already hooked up?"

"I'm just that good."

She rolled her eyes and Biggs gave him an admiring glance. "The messenger chick that hot?"

"She's something special," Alex confirmed, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

"What about 452?" CeCe demanded, "The doctor expects us to have something soon, we have to-"

"CeCe, calm down, I'll handle Sandeman." He glanced toward the closed bedroom door, "We'll have 452 by tonight, I promise."

"And how can you promise that?"

"Because, Cecelia, I have a date with her in two hours and I always get my girl." He felt a shit-eating grin spread across his face at their dropped jaws. He straightened the collar on the button-down, "Now help me find this 'Crash' place."

"You…" Biggs' voice was strained, "You are the master."

"I know." He shrugged into a casual jacket, "Hey, what do you think of the name Alec?"

* * *

AN2: For those of you who celebrate, I wish you all a Merry Christmas. 


	7. WXYZ

Thanks to p3karen, quirks, mars494, Chica De Los Ojos Café, predatorynature, VeggieAsh, iluvaqt, Erkith (I hope you do write your own version!), PurpleSpinx, and purplebunnywabbit (I adored your reviews) for reviewing. I hope this last installment is as enjoyable as the previous six.

Ratings: W-T, X-T, Y-T, Z-T

AN: Sorry about 'X', I couldn't get Sketchy quite right, and 'Y' is part of a snippet arc I have going on Word and will eventually post to my LJ.

**Wager**

She found him a couple blocks from his place, getting some kind of sandwich and fruit smoothie from Jerry'z. She watched in disgust as he leaned against the brick wall of the condemned building next to his favored dive and offered a girl with bright purple hair a sip of his drink, both of their expressions flirtatious. Rolling her eyes, Max came to a stop, just bumping his bike and sending it crashing to the ground.

"Hey!" Alec exclaimed, seeing his means of livelihood toppled. He shoved his food and drink at his new companion and turned to glare at the culprit. "Max," he growled.

"Alec," she replied, borrowing his smirk. She waited, somewhat impatiently, as he righted his bicycle and started to pedal away. She rode after him, neither sparing a glance at the cry from the girl they'd left behind.

"I think you broke one of my spokes," he accused her.

"On that piece of crap, how can you tell?"

He shot her a dark look and swerved to avoid a pedestrian. "What do you need, Max?"

"There's a Monet I need to lift from a gallery. It's a two man job."

"Are the gallery owners 'bad people'?" he asked caustically.

She shot him her own dark look, "As a matter of fact, yes. And it's a mission for Logan. For the greater good."

"The greater good being you two finally able to get busy?"

"Shut up!" she hissed across the distance, having to swerve herself this time as two kids raced by on skateboards.

"Not interested."

"Alec!"

"Max!" he mocked.

"You owe me, it's your fault-"

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, "Did I inject you with a DNA-specific retrovirus? No, that was Renfro. Did I kiss Logan the second I got away from Manticore and almost kill the guy? No, that was you. Did I ask you to give up your one chance at happiness in order to save my life? No, that was you again. Did I interrupt your ten hour window to do the deed? No, that was Joshua. So, tell me Max, what exactly is my fault in this whole screwed up situation?"

Taken aback by his rant, Max searched for something to say. He glanced her way, snorted, and started pedaling faster.

She caught up to him outside of Jam Pony, storing her bike beside his as he chained it to the railing. "You're right," she conceded, hurrying to lock her own bicycle.

"I know," he said over his shoulder, not waiting for her, as he descended the ramp into their place of business.

Slightly exasperated at his uncharacteristic disinterest in her life, she found herself chasing after him again, granting Normal a glare as he tried to fry her for being late. He probably hadn't said anything to Alec, even though he was just as late. Max bit back her grumble at the unfairness of it all and slid in beside him at the lockers. "You're right," she repeated, successfully not gritting her teeth, "I was wrong-"

"Can I get that in writing?" he snarked, checking his pack.

"Alec, please! I need your help!" She winced, looking at floor, looking away from him because she was practically begging. "Please?"

"Tell ya what, Maxie, I'll make you a little wager."

She bit her tongue on the instinctive 'it's Max' reply and thought her tone very even as she asked, "A bet? What are the terms?"

"They're pretty simple," he snapped his vest on and headed toward the dispatch desk, gesturing her to follow, "I ask you a question, if you get it right, I back you up on your dastardly scheme to get some nookie. You get it wrong, you stop asking me for these favors. So, you in?"

"Yeah." Not like she had a choice, there was no way she was getting into that gallery without him. "What's the question?"

"What color are my eyes?"

Her first impulse was to blurt out 'blue' and grin triumphantly, but a memory stopped her before the first syllable emerged. She scrutinized his profile carefully as he put his packages in order of his route. He was studiously not looking at her. "Hazel," she finally said, her voice almost a whisper, "green-hazel."

Alec looked at her then, eyes wide with surprise, and she had to force herself not to look away, to examine them. She hadn't noticed how beautiful they were before, the color more or less intense with his moods, the way his long dark lashes framed them…She'd never _seen_ before.

"Well," he finally stated, his customary smirk suddenly curving his mouth, "color me shocked."

"Why?" She hated how defensive that had sounded.

"I never thought you noticed me enough to know."

She should let it go. Let it go and let him walk away until she needed him for the heist. But her brain seemed to go on the fritz. "I didn't." It wasn't loud, that admittance, but he was transgenic and so it was loud enough.

"What?" He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I didn't notice your eyes." Max took a deep breath and took a few steps until she was back by his side. And then she ran roughshod over his confusion. "I remembered Ben's eyes." The look in them as the light went out was something she'd never forget. Something she still had nightmares over.

His eyes blanked like someone had drawn a curtain over them and Max found herself ashamed. Alec was always around, a constant presence in her life, and she hadn't really paid him any attention. Not even when he was doing something right. "Of course, I should've known."

She found herself speechless for the second time that day. He sounded so bitter… "Alec!"

He waved a hand as he walked away, calling back, "Bet's a bet, Max, I'll meet you at Logan's around seven. He'll probably be making pasta."

She stood at the bottom of the ramp, feeling off-kilter and guilty. "I'm sorry."

**Xerox **

Reagan Ronald, known to the degenerates who worked for him as 'Normal', was going through the replicas of his newest employees' files. He believed in hard copies, preferably in triplicate. After the Pulse, he could never really bring himself to trust a computer again. So, he was organizing and alphabetizing, when he found an item that didn't belong.

"Sketchy!"

The man voted 'Least Likely to Succeed' in the informal, annual Jam Pony elections, sauntered up to the dispatch desk and peered over his hippie little sunglasses at his boss. "What's up, Normal?"

No respect from kids these days. Only his golden boy knew his manners. "Care to tell me what this is?" he prompted, holding up the piece of paper.

Sketchy took it, turning it this way and that before his eyes widened. "It's someone's butt!" he announced in triumph.

"I can see that Einstein," he snapped, "Why is it in my employee files?"

"Huh. That is weird." Sketchy looked down at the stapled, sorted papers and then back at the single, Normal-offending piece and then back at his boss. Behind the thick lenses, Normal's expression was impatient and not-amused. "Whoa, Normal, you don't think it's mine, do you?"

"As much as I doubt the good Lord blessed you with that particular asset, you're the only one who's been in the stock room recently."

"Only 'cuz you sent me in there!" Sketchy protested, "Besides, the sign says the machine is broken!" A sudden thought occurred to him and he looked at Normal suspiciously, "Are you saying you lied about the Xerox machine, Normal?"

"I was tired of you hooligans messing around in there!" Normal exclaimed. He pointed a finger at one of the said hooligans, "Not that that stopped you."

"It's not mine!"

"Then whose is it?"

"I…I don't…Alec's!"

"What?"

"Alec, he was in there, like, yesterday, man! I saw him come out." Sketchy gave a couple nods as he recalled the furtive looks the younger man gave the rest of the room before venturing out. "I think he was with a girl, but I didn't see who."

"Are you suggesting that this," Normal looked at the print-out with renewed interest, "is Alec's derriere?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm suggesting."

"Huh."

"Huh." It might have been Sketchy's imagination, as he was slightly toasted, but Normal's eyes seemed to gleam a bit and that was definitely a smile playing around his usually dour mouth. Sketchy didn't think Alec would appreciate the expression on their boss' face. "Although, to be sure, we should probably ask him."

"Ask him," Normal repeated.

"Yeah." Sketchy turned and rested both elbows on the dispatch desk, surveying the incoming and outgoing messengers. "Call him on it. Confirm your suspicions." According to Alec's typical routine; taking into account traffic, wind speed, pretty girls, and Steelheads, Jam Pony's designated 'Most Desirable Male Specimen' should be rolling in right about…now. "Hey! Alec, buddy, c'mere!"

Alec unzipped his sweater and ran a hand through his growing hair, ignoring the droplets of rain that clung to the strands and dripped onto his skin, before ambling over to the desk. "What's up, Sketch? Normal?" He wasn't sure he liked the anticipatory smile on his fellow messenger's face, or the slightly dazed glaze to Normal's features.

"Normal has something to ask you, man."

"Oh yeah?" he turned his green-eyed gaze to the older man and smiled, "What do you need, boss? Hot run?"

"No, um…"

"Are you okay, Ray?" Alec was starting to get a little nervous and he was pretty sure Normal had just twittered.

Normal cleared his throat and looked back down at the cause of this little confrontation. "It has come to my attention that you've been using the stock room for some lascivious purpose. Granted, with your physical appeal and charm, I realize women gravitate to you like tiny planets to a golden sun. But," he gave the cream of his pathetic little crop an understanding smile, "we've had this discussion before. No office romances, they don't end well."

Alec's only response to that was, "What?" Normal handed him a piece of paper and he stared at it uncomprehendingly before coming to a conclusion. "This is someone's ass." He looked at Normal, then at Sketchy, and then back at Normal. "You think this is _my_ ass."

"Mr. Genius over here," Normal pointed to Sketchy, "informed me of your little tryst yesterday."

"Turns out the copier isn't broken," Sketchy put in helpfully, only to receive a death glare from his friend. And, he'd never admit it out loud, but those glares from Alec put the fear of God in him. "So, who was the honey?"

Alec went pale. "Shit," he whispered, "Shit." He watched his knuckles turn white from gripping the sheet of paper and told himself to calm down. Sketchy was the only one who'd seen him exiting the stock room and he hadn't discovered Alec's reticent companion. "This needs to be destroyed." The X5 gave Normal his most pleading puppy dog eyes, "There's a shredder back there, right? Can you take care of this, please, Normal?"

"Destroying evidence won't get rid of the problem-"

"You are absolutely right, Normal, it was a one time lapse in judgment. It'll never happen again, I swear," Alec promised, "Can I trust you never to mention it again?" He made sure to put the right amount of hope in his tone, just enough to make Normal think he was confiding in him.

It worked, because Normal was straightening his shoulders and smiling again. "You can count on me, rock star," he assured his messenger.

"I knew I could, buddy," Alec replied, giving the older man a friendly punch on the arm before backing away toward the lockers.

Sketchy watched him go, admiring his tactics. "That guy can play you like a piano."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Normal murmured, "Hey! You! That's right reprobate, you, that bike is a privilege, not a right…"

Sketchy watched him go as well; ranting at one of the new kids Alec had recruited, before glancing down at the desk and grinning.

"What are you grinning at fool?"

"Hey OC!" He followed the dark-skinned goddess as she passed, "Wanna see Alec's ass?"

"No," she snorted, shoving her bag in her locker. The she turned back to him, "Well?"

He looked around quickly, making sure Alec wasn't actually _in_ the locker area anymore, and showed her the copy he'd snatched from the desk. "Check it out, turns out the Xerox machine in the stock room isn't so broken. Who would've thought he had so much junk in the trunk, right?"

"Gimme that," Cindy demanded. She studied the picture for a moment. "Huh. That is a lot of cushion for one man." She craned her head toward the sitting area and saw Max talking with some of the latest batch of X5s that had signed up with Team Jam Pony. This was probably something her best friend would like to hear about, if only so that Max, who had won both 'Most Desirable Female Specimen' and 'Most Feared Being on the Face of This Planet, She's Such a Bitch' in the unofficial election, could tear the boy a new one.

Sketchy watched OC go with alarm. That paper was supposed to be shredded. "OC!" he called after her, "I need that back." She didn't even look at him. He decided now was a good time for a lunch break, preferably one outside of Jam Pony, so that if Normal or Alec found out the incriminating copy hadn't been eradicated, he wouldn't be around for the fall out.

"Check it, boo," Cindy proclaimed, settling herself on the couch next to Max, "Original Cindy heard through the grapevine that Alec's been tomcatting around the work pool again."

"What?"

"He had himself a shorty in the stock room yesterday."

Max's eyes, which had widened in shock, now narrowed. "How do you know?"

"Hot boy left a little evidence." She brought out the picture. "Boy's got some budunkadunk."

Max stared down at the sheet of paper and the image printed on it. "I thought the copier was broken."

"Apparently not."

Max blinked big brown eyes at her roommate and stood, "Excuse me."

Alec wiped water off of his face and turned off the faucet, reaching for a paper towel. He patted his face dry and tossed the used towel into the overflowing trashcan before glancing in the mirror for a once over. "Whoa!" he shouted, spinning to face a very irate-looking Max. "Hey Max! You know this is the men's room, right?" He gave her a charming smirk, which had won the write-in category of 'Most Likely Expression to Make You Swoon' in this year's poll.

Max didn't look at all charmed or about to faint. "What the hell is _this_, Alec?" she hissed.

Alec turned his eyes from her homicidal appearance to the piece of paper she held in her hand. He felt all the blood rush out of his face for the second time that day and grabbed the picture out of her hands. "Shit," he muttered, "Normal was supposed to get rid of this."

"Normal," she repeated, voice taking on a strident quality, "Normal saw a copy of my bare ass?!"

"He thinks it's mine!" Alec rushed to assure her.

"Well then, I guess everything's okay."

Alec cringed, "I realize this is a sarcasm-worthy event, Max, but may I remind you that the stock room was your idea."

She frowned in what he thought was an uber-menacing way, "The stock room was your idea. _Sex_ at _work_ was _your_ _idea_!"

They both froze at the volume of her tone and listened with their genetically-enhanced abilities to make sure no one was around to overhear. And then Alec made that thinking face of his; eyes looking upward and lips pursed before he opened his mouth. "Okay," he conceded, "work sex was my idea, but having work sex on the copy machine _was_ your idea."

"It was broken," she grumbled feebly.

"I think the sign was lying."

"Shut up. Just shut up. _I_," she seized the paper back, "will make this disappear. _You_ will let OC, Sketchy, and Normal tease you about this for all eternity, and _we_ will never have work sex again."

"But we will have non-work sex, right?" She glowered . "Max?" She walked away. "Right?" He didn't hear her coming back, "Maxie?" Still, only silence answered him. "Damn it."

**Yawn **

"I think I'm in love with Max." Alec whispered it to the night, and paused, considering the words.

"You think?" His voice came from four feet away and Alec turned his head, meeting sleepy hazel eyes.

"Like 90 percent sure," he confirmed.

A huff of laughter, "And what's made you 90 percent sure?"

Alec twisted his head straight, so that he was staring back up at the cracks running through the swirl patterns on the bedroom ceiling, and didn't answer.

Max was a…not a problem, exactly, more like a conundrum. She had been since the first time he walked into her cell and she checked him to the door with one well-placed boot. His relationship with her had always been a sort of frustrated affection. He was always walking that thin line between love and hate, and generally his foot slipped onto the latter's side, but today…

Today was Wednesday. Not really an exciting notion, being as they'd only gotten half the week done and still had another half to go, and all of Tuesday's plans and appointments had been shot to hell by Max's heat. It had cooped the three of them up in the apartment for a little less than twenty-four hours, so it was understandable that Max would be tired. She had shark DNA, yes, but that didn't mean she could function that long, after using up as much energy as she had, without some rest. They'd both caught a cat nap before heading to their respective workstations, but Max had blazed out of the apartment immediately after coming back to herself, and Alec was certain she hadn't slept since.

So, it wasn't a phenomenal day. Tuesday had been phenomenal. Tuesday had been mind-blowing, but Wednesday was just another day. At least until Alec bounced into Max's makeshift office.

Their encounter started out the way it so often did since the first night Alec had come home to find Max in his bed. He leered and joked about her sexual prowess and she threatened to bounce him on his ass, or some similar threat. She'd gotten good at picking ones that he couldn't turn into an innuendo, and then they'd segue way into the business of running Terminal City.

But today…today Max had yawned. Max had yawned, trying to hide it behind one slender hand, and then he had yawned, because those things were contagious, and then she had blushed, really truly, tucked a strand of hair behind an ear, and apologized even as her eyes started drooping.

To say Alec had been shocked would have been an understatement.

And if it wasn't enough that she'd let her guard down that far, she then proceeded to fall asleep on her desk. So Alec had been left to stare at her, open-mouthed, while she slept. Granted, it was something he'd seen a few dozen times before, but that was always after a couple rounds of hard fucking and orgasms. Never just because she was tired.

He had sat dumbfounded for at least ten minutes before he consciously became aware that he was memorizing the pattern of her breathing and the way her mouth opened and the way her lashes looked against her cheek. Then he had a minor freak-out and left to flirt with that new X-6 chick in the armory. Not that he could touch, what with being spoken for and all, but a little looking never hurt anybody.

And now he was here, unable to sleep, because he kept thinking about the innocent expression on her face when she yawned. That slight shyness in her gaze before she averted her eyes from his.

"Alec?"

"She yawned," he said defensively.

"Aww."

"Shut up."

"She's our mate." He hated when his own voice sounded so logical about that fact. He hated that he heard it so often.

"Considering I'll never be able to screw another female as long as I live, I'm well aware of that little detail. Thanks."

A languid little chuckle and the mattress shifted. Alec made an automatic grab for the covers and glared at the other side of the bed. The back of a dark blond head was the only thing visible. "Man, you need to get over it."

"Over it?" Alec repeated, "I didn't really have a choice in the matter."

"You didn't have to mark her."

"You did, too," Alec reminded him.

"Yeah, but I've loved her forever. It was just kinda instinctual."

His hand drifted to the space between them, stopping when he felt the bed dip. She'd lain there last night, warm and satiated, and he'd gone straight to sleep with no hesitation. No wondering what it meant or how she felt about him. It had just been sex. Incredible, earth-moving sex, but still just sex. Now his stomach was in knots and he wanted to feel the heat her body radiated sliding against him. Wanted his breathing to slow to match hers as they drifted to sleep. Shit, he just wanted to hold her for a little bit.

He groaned and spun, stealing more of the covers, and buried his head in his pillow. "I lied." He murmured the confession to the flattened cotton of his pillowcase, but of course his brother heard.

"I know." He hoped his voice never had that smug tone when he was amused.

"I'm in love with Max."

"Yeah," Ben's voice was just a whisper, "It's about time you figured that out."

**Zipper**

"My zipper's stuck." She stared at him in horror and then started giggling. He shot her a dark look, still struggling with his pants. "It isn't funny."

"Yes, it is," she said, full out laughing now.

He looked down at himself, his tie askew, his dress shirt ripped open, lipstick streaks on his chest… "It's a little funny," he conceded.

"It's a lot funny," she shot back.

He looked at her a moment before grinning, a rumble of a laugh escaping his own lips. Flopping down beside her on the office's leather couch, he reached over to pull her onto his lap. "What are we doing?"

Placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, she leaned in against him. "We were trying to have sex."

"In my office."

"Yep."

"Does it seem like we're trying too hard?" He felt her head tilt upwards on his shoulder and he looked down into her brown eyes. Her left eyebrow quirked upward and he smiled, lips brushing over her forehead. "It just seems like this falling into bed thing should be easier."

She snorted, "Sex is supposed to be easy?"

"Was before," he countered.

"Before me."

"Yep."

"You're such a dick, Alec." She slid off his lap, shooting him a dirty look as she snatched her shirt from its position under the couch. He bit his lip as she put it back on, adjusting the hem over her jeans. She never looked liked she belonged with him; always out of place in his posh office, discordant standing at his side in her street gear while he wore Armani, but he never forgot that they came from the same place.

After Manticore she'd found him in the cage, taking Ordinaries down for a little dough, and dragged him, loudly protesting, back to her place and set him up at a real job. Minimum wage and all. He liked hanging with her and her friends, but the sub-par pay and squalid living conditions weren't appealing.

So he used his genetically superior skills to plow his way to the top of the company. Jam Pony was now incorporated and had a messenger service in almost every city in the nation. It had helped that Reagan Ronald, owner and President, had known him from the fighting circuit and was one of his biggest fans, giving Alec leeway the boss would never give anyone else, and Alec wasn't above taking advantage of that. The name plate beside his office door read Alec McDowell, Vice President.

She stayed at the bottom rung, content, angry with him for trying to stand out. She hadn't spoken to him for months when he told her his plans, and when she finally did, the friendly hostility they had always enjoyed had taken on an edge of real antagonism.

He'd asked her to move in with him, eager to get her away from the crumbling building she lived in and almost desperate to prove he could take care of himself, and her too, without her mothering. She informed him, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn't the kind of girl to leave a friend in the lurch and OC couldn't afford rent on her own and if he wanted someone to play housemaid and bed warmer, then he could go to the nearest corner and find someone more willing.

Cindy had started ignoring him after that, too, especially when he'd found her a new roommate. Kendra, the office assistant on the third floor, had been bemoaning her break-up with her Mr. Multiples in the lunch room one day and how she had to move out, when Alec had swooped in to the rescue. Max and Original Cindy liked Kendra too much to turn her away when she'd landed on their doorstep, and when the living quarters got too tight for three women, he had come home one day to Max flipping through his DVD collection, her stuff already dispersed throughout the apartment.

Their frenemy status back in tact, Alec had joined her at her favorite haunt and found himself welcomed back into the fold of bike messengers as if he'd never left. OC had let him buy her a beer, Skye had asked for help picking up a girl by the bar, Herbal Thought granted him a new pearl of wisdom from his never-ending supply, and Sketchy challenged him to a game of pool. He'd left Crash on the back on Max's Ninja with a smile on his face.

Logan broke up with Max. Alec couldn't make himself feel bad about it, although the fact that it was his bed her heat had led her to, kind of made it his fault. The cyber-journalist had never been good enough for Max. Of course, neither were the two guys she dated after the split…but who was Alec to butt in on her relationships?

They'd decided, sometime after Max had broken it off with Rafer and Alec had an unfortunate incident with two of the girls he was seeing, that being friends with benefits would be easier. They knew they were genetically compatible, thanks Manticore, they knew they could have explosive sex, thanks again Manticore, they might as well just scratch each other's itches.

Of course, after reaching this decision, everything had become awkward.

It had been one disastrous attempt after another. From his watch tangling in her hair to him getting frustrated with her bra strap. From being interrupted by friends to driving his Duke into a ditch. Anything that could go wrong usually did. Case in point, this lovely shot at work sex. She was on lunch, he didn't have any appointments, it was the perfect opportunity, then BAM!...zipper stickage.

They were fine with casual intimacy; kissing, light touches, holding hands…It was just when they reached critical mass that everything went haywire. It was only their amazing ability to adapt and their extraordinarily witty banter that kept them from screaming at each other in frustration and calling it quits.

Oh, and one other teeny, tiny detail…

"I love you, Max," he told her seriously.

Her mouth fell open and her ball cap dropped from her hands to the floor. "What? Where did _that_ come from?"

He stood up, buttoning his shirt and walked the few feet from the couch to where she stood by the chairs in front of his desk. Her bag was settled on one, her ID tag clipped to a pocket. He put his hands on her shoulders and met her gaze. "I think that's why this is so difficult, for me at least. Before you, I didn't care and now I do, and I really want this…Us…to be right. To work out to be more than just scratching posts." He gave her one of his roguish grins, the one that always made her roll her eyes.

She didn't roll her eyes. "Alec-"

He wasn't sure he liked the tone she said his name in. "Just tell me the truth, Maxie, do you think you might love me back? Even just a little?"

"Rock star! I need-" Max practically leapt away from him at the disruption and Reagan paused at the movement. "You…" he trailed off, finger pointing at Max as if trying to remember her name, "Missy Miss, what's your business up here?"

"I was delivering a message for Mr. McDowell."

"Are you done?" Max nodded and Alec wanted to tear at his hair in disappointment at his boss' intrusion. "Then bip!" he yelled, "You're on company time, do your job!"

"Yes, sir," she grit out, picking up her bag and walking to the door.

"Wait a minute, Max," Alec called after her, not willing to let her run away from the conversation. "I have something to go down to four." He turned back to Mr. Ronald. "What's up, Reagan?"

"I need to know if you're bringing a date to the holiday party."

"Yes, of course, if my girlfriend is ready to meet the public." He smirked and his eyes shot to where Max was waiting impatiently by the door. "Max?"

She blinked as Reagan turned to look at her too, obviously not getting the subtext. "Fine," she hissed, eyes narrowing, "Yes. What_ever_."

"Well, there you have it, Reagan," his smirk grew into a smile, "We'll be there."

"You…" His boss cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose, "and…" he waved his hand at Max, "her?"

"Yep."

He cleared his throat again, "You have superb business sense, Alec, but your taste in women-"

"Is excellent, Reagan," Alec interjected, "I'll see you at three o'clock for the meeting?"

Reagan nodded and walked out, hand going to his headset as the ringing indicated a call. Max and Alec watched him go, the door closing behind him, leaving them alone once again. "I think old Normal wanted you to take him to the party," Max mused.

"Lock the door, Max. I don't want to be interrupted again."

"There's nothing to interrupt," she stated, but locked the door anyway.

"We weren't done with our conversation."

"If I have to wear a dress to the stupid party, you're buying it." She was still standing across the office, fiddling with the door handle.

"I'm not talking about the party, Max," he said, finally giving in and walking toward her. "I told you I loved you."

"I heard you." She glared at him.

"Well?" he demanded.

"I said yes, didn't I?"

"To the party."

"It was a general yes, Alec, stop being a dick."

He moved closer, gathering her in his arms, "Yes…" he whispered in her ear.

She finally looked up at him, brown eyes blazing, "Yes, I love you too. Ass."

Alec let loose a laugh and bent down to kiss her. Her lips met his eagerly, heatedly, and they found themselves slowly migrating back to the couch they had started on; her bag was dropped, cap knocked off, her shirt flung back beneath the furniture, jeans falling off her hips as she pulled apart his dress shirt, buttons flying, and wrapped a hand around his tie, pulling him on top of her. "If at first you don't succeed," Alec murmured, his hands on his pants, zipper sliding down easily.

"Try, try again," Max finished with a gasp as his flesh finally, _finally_, met hers.

**The End**

AN2: Well, that's it folks. I'm going to focus on Culpability before starting anything new, and once that's finish I'll need some advice on which fic to write next. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next year!


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